When all thee world is well and good.
When thee star-marked boy is born.
When thee Dystany War is won and lost,
Thee Misery shall come.

A knife of truth.
A staff of flight.
A robe of flying night.
These weapons thee chosen one shall use to thee beasty smite.

Thee Misery shall bring with it an age of fear and storm.
Thew hooded bones shall with his scythe slice through the gates of hell,
And from their pacing rest release the slaves of Beelzabub.

Thee demons scream, thee people sob before thee hero come.
He shall cut thee chains binding us and retie thee gates of Hell.