Sing, O’ green leafed forest
Of heroes gone past
Born not for greatness
That which is honor attained
But who outshines all
Hero supreme
Argen the Blade
Of black shining sword

Night
The sky outpouring
It's sorrows, tears, and pains
The darkness enveloped
The world
Is a velveteen sheet of ice
Cold, wet, soft, enveloping
The drowned
Skeleton's fingers
Brush your neck

The rider flies down
Down the rocky road
Dark rider
Upon dark horse
Riding on dark road
Through dark, rainy night
In his arms
Precious bundle
Not gold, nor gems
But child
Argen, the babe