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owned by GW. Verse I At dawn the iron warhorns cry, the banners drink the rain, Siege towers crawl like looming gods across the trampled plain. Battering rams like thunder strike the gate in brutal time, Each blow a vow in splintered oak, each crack a battle sign. Chorus Raise the ladders! Storm the walls! Let the boiling oil fall! Stone and steel and shattered bone— Hear the walls begin to groan! Blood and fire, oath and shield— This is how the old world yields! Verse II On ancient walls where sea-winds cut, the Lothern Sea Guard stand, Their arrows fall like silver rain by calm, immortal hands. Eagle Claws behind them creak, then scream with killing force, Great bolts tear through the shielded ranks and shatter tower and corpse. The horns resound, the bows fall still, the spears are leveled low— No fear, no haste, just perfect lines as closer footsteps grow. Chorus Raise the ladders! Storm the walls! Let the boiling oil fall! Stone and steel and shattered bone— Hear the walls begin to groan! Blood and fire, oath and shield— This is how the old world yields! Verse III Below, the Dawi load their guns, grim smiles through smoke and flame, The organ gun erupts in thunder, turning ranks to ruin and stain. Warp-lightning splits the choking air as Skaven engines scream, Doomwheels spark and warpfire roars in sickly, emerald gleam. Yet Empire cannons answer back with iron, shot, and pride, Man stands firm in smoke and death where mad machines collide. Verse IV From rotting flesh a tower walks, its daemons laughing still, Plaguebearers swarm the blood-wet stones with joyous, buzzing will. Then desert winds bring screaming skulls from Tomb Kings long entombed, Catapults rain ancient hate beneath the deathless moon. But spear and shot and blackpowder roar defiance to the end, And skulls are smashed to dust again on walls that will not bend. Bridge Boom—boom—the gate begins to cry, Iron screams and timbers die! Chains snap fast, the hinges fail— The walls decide the final tale! Final Chorus Raise the ladders! Break the gate! Let the walls curse us too late! Arrow, cannon, blade, and flame— Every stone knows every name! Sing of blood and smoke and fire— This is siege and this is war! Outro When smoke drifts low and crows descend where heroes bled and fell, The walls still stand—or lie in dust—to mark who fought here well. For in the Old World’s endless night one truth is ever sung: No wall stands forever when the war drums beat as one.