Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Opplomak , by - Kronos. Song from the album Colossal Titan Strife, in the genre МеталRelease date: 14.08.2009
Record label: Metalhit.com, Xtreem
Song language: English
Opplomak |
| To suffer myself, to be whipped by rods |
| Burned with fire, or killed with steel… |
| If I disobey… |
| In times of plague, famine and death |
| A fantastic clamour raises from the coliseum |
| The circus maximus under an overwhelming sun |
| Welcome the silver-armoured barbarian horde |
| Overtrained gladiators thrown in the arena |
| Alongst chained lions and phaetonic aurigas |
| Acclaimed by the crowd, idolized as mightiest gods |
| They brandish their weapons, transcending the greedy punters |
| By times of triumph, decadence and impericide |
| The chariots mark forever the sand ring with their wheels |
| Shame to the last one, honour and pride for the son chosen |
| While gladiators walk now from shadows to their fate |
| Supreme machines whoe spectacle is primordial |
| Torture and «To the death» have never existed |
| Satisfied or repaid, are unknown words |
| Neither lowered, nor raised thumbs… |
| «Sold then bought as interestless things |
| My still in the art of fighting |
| My strength in the will of survival |
| Child, I soon learn the Dictum Primeval…» |
| Neither whiplashes or insults prevent me |
| To be entangled in the revenge spiral |
| One day, the gathering’ll scand my grade |
| Quia nominor Opplomakus |
| Ave Imperator, Morituri te salutant |
| The opplon strongly hold, we brave our combat |
| Helios smashes us with solar might |
| But we must play this ever-cheated game |
| Moved as vulgar pawns on a circular sand chessboard |
| We are human bishops handled by emperor’s attractions |
| The fantastic clamour raises again on the arena |
| In times of plague, famine and death |
| Slave… Slave then deity |
| Grandiose… Grandiose destiny |
| Dictum… Dictum Primeval |
| Law… Law of survival |
| By times of triumph, decadence and impericide |
| The chariots mark forever the sand ring with their wheels |
| Shame to the last one, honour and for the son chosen |
| While gladiators walk now from shadows to their fate |
| Supreme machines whose spectacle is primordial |
| Torture and «To the death» have never existed |
| Satisfied or repaid, are unknown words |
| Neither lowered, nor raised thumbs… |
| «Sold then bought as interestless things |
| My still in the art of fighting |
| My strength in the will of survival |
| Child, I soon learn the Dictum Primeval…» |