| The iron door that never swings
|
| Guards the hall where hammers sing
|
| Torches blaze with a fiery smoke
|
| Shroud the home of the thunderbolts
|
| Great machines that groan and bend
|
| Bodies black and bead with sweat
|
| And legions of the night march by
|
| Beneath the lightning clouded sky
|
| And all around you hear the sound
|
| Of thunder, thunder, thunder, thunder
|
| Thunder, thunder, thunder, thunder
|
| Voices chant in ancient rhymes
|
| Written on the edge of time
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| Words of wisdom, tales of doom
|
| Bringing soon unearthly tunes
|
| Shadows chained lie at our side
|
| Strain for the call to ride
|
| And as the mist begins to clear
|
| The bridge to glory soon appears
|
| And all around you hear the sound
|
| Of thunder, thunder, thunder, thunder
|
| Thunder, thunder, thunder, thunder |