Laga, Ragalor — Keep One Chair

Ash-Grey Noon…
A Frozen Strand…
No Voice Came To Greet Our Band…
Crooked Doors… A Roof Of Snow…
An Empty Hearth Where Songs Once Glowed…
The Old Hall Sagged Beneath The Snow
Its Crooked Doorway Breathed Cold And Low
Pale Banners Trembled, Worn And Torn
The High Table Split Where Kings Had Sworn
Old Cups Lay Sleeping In The Dust