The lord of the rings was vanquished, his influence has been dispersed, the focus of evil diminished, but the wake of his horrors are cursed…
A peaceful kingdom jaded, Aragorn’s days have dwindled, the rightful lineage faded, the darkness has rekindled.
Mount Doom’s lava burned, it impregnated the very soil… it grew unnatural worms; and seeded new turmoil.
Sauron’s malice seeped creating: crawling broods; giant leeches creeped, infected crops and food.
Gandalf left us a scroll, the last of ancient pages, there is a mighty role predicted by the sages.
A hero recently born (or so the prophecy says) has faced consistent scorn working through unrest.
They said, “We’ll surely lose it”, referring to hope and light, “if we don’t harness music to stop the spreading blight.”
Metal was once just swordplay, with axes and with maces, but what we need today is forged with guitars and with basses.
We only have one hope, which we’ll repeat and streamline, we’re trying our best to cope… we need The Great Baseline.
The mythical fingers and thumb will bring dragons to their knees, the greatest will surely strum a melody through breeze.
The breeze will mix the weather, a clean spring will rebirth, rain will cascade like feathers falling gently to the earth.
Gladrial’s crystal phial will finally light again. For just a little while we’ll find a happy end.