Waiting in the brush for the right time to appear
To turn the tide of battle she arrives
In the mists she draws the sign with her spear
The battle's fallen shall arise
From the tree line beasts drawing near
The broken twisted refuse of the forest
Dragging entrails and limbs they smell fear
Another pawn of fate
Stealth of the Wolf, Rage of the Bear
Sight of the one eyed raven flying through the air
And when the soldiers who've been carved to the bone
They return to the fight
Death Cleric has arrived
Into the fray she rides upon a wave of rats
Forever shifting her away from attacks
She takes no pleasure - to her it's not a game
Even those who live will never be the same
Death Cleric has arrived
With death on her side!
With death on her side!