Sylvanas, Not my Warchief!

[Pre-Chorus]
We know the name Windrunner, we know the face
The pride of our lineage, the shame of our race
A sister of Silvermoon, cold and unkind
With a heart like a labyrinth, no mercy to find!

[Chorus]
Sylvanas! You never were Warchief to me
Just a ghost in the machine of a dead dynasty!
A snake in the garden, a blight on the sun
Counting our lives 'til the killing is done
The Horde isn’t armor for you to just wear
Or a weapon to swing in your state of despair
The Banshee is silent, the cycle is broke
And we’re breathing again now we’re out of her smoke!

[Verse 2]
She spoke of a future, she spoke of the "Free"
While she burned down a world and a Great Mother Tree
She treated the Orcs like the stones in a wall
And waited for Honor and Glory to fall
But we elves have seen how the Windrunners play
They’ll sell out their kin for the light of the day
Or the dark of the night, it’s all just a game
And she lit up the world just to fan her own flame!

[Instrumental]
[A soaring, melancholic cello melody clashing against sharp, aggressive violin stabs, building into a rhythmic, martial drum beat]

[Bridge]
(Slow, haunting tempo)
Alleria is chasing the whispers of the Void
Sylvanas is haunting the lives she destroyed
Vereesa is bitter in her citadel high
Three sisters of sorrow under one broken sky
We trusted the ranger, we followed the lead
But a Windrunner only serves one single need
To be right, to be vengeful, to never be wrong
While the rest of us suffer to carry the song!

[Outro]
The sun rises over the Farstrider Square
Without the smell of the rot in the air
No more "Dark Lady," no more "Victory"
Just a Horde that is finally, actually free.
(Spoken)
The Sunwell remembers, Sylvanas. And so do we.
(A final, clean harp glissando that fades into silence)

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[Verse 1] The banners were black and the sky was a bruise A choice made in fever, a debt we didn’t choose Vol’jin was fading, the spirits were loud But a shadow was cast on the red and the proud A Loa’s low whisper, a trick of the breath And he handed the Horde to the Mistress of Death We stood in the spires, the sun on our skin And knew that the darkness was invited in. [Pre-Chorus] We know the name Windrunner, we know the face The pride of our lineage, the shame of our race A sister of Silvermoon, cold and unkind With a heart like a labyrinth, no mercy to find! [Chorus] Sylvanas! You never were Warchief to me Just a ghost in the machine of a dead dynasty! A snake in the garden, a blight on the sun Counting our lives 'til the killing is done The Horde isn’t armor for you to just wear Or a weapon to swing in your state of despair The Banshee is silent, the cycle is broke And we’re breathing again now we’re out of her smoke! [Verse 2] She spoke of a future, she spoke of the "Free" While she burned down a world and a Great Mother Tree She treated the Orcs like the stones in a wall And waited for Honor and Glory to fall But we elves have seen how the Windrunners play They’ll sell out their kin for the light of the day Or the dark of the night, it’s all just a game And she lit up the world just to fan her own flame! [Instrumental] [A soaring, melancholic cello melody clashing against sharp, aggressive violin stabs, building into a rhythmic, martial drum beat] [Bridge] (Slow, haunting tempo) Alleria is chasing the whispers of the Void Sylvanas is haunting the lives she destroyed Vereesa is bitter in her citadel high Three sisters of sorrow under one broken sky We trusted the ranger, we followed the lead But a Windrunner only serves one single need To be right, to be vengeful, to never be wrong While the rest of us suffer to carry the song! [Chorus] Sylvanas! You never were Warchief to me Just a ghost in the machine of a dead dynasty! A snake in the garden, a blight on the sun Counting our lives 'til the killing is done The Horde isn’t armor for you to just wear Or a weapon to swing in your state of despair The Banshee is silent, the cycle is broke And we’re breathing again now we’re out of her smoke! [Outro] The sun rises over the Farstrider Square Without the smell of the rot in the air No more "Dark Lady," no more "Victory" Just a Horde that is finally, actually free. (Spoken) The Sunwell remembers, Sylvanas. And so do we. (A final, clean harp glissando that fades into silence)

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