The Mountain King of Hell

modern classical, orchestral, minimalist

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In caverns cursed, where angels fell,
He wakes beneath an ashen shell.
A thousand years of tortured sleep,
Now clawing through the mountain deep...

He stirs with fire in hollow veins,
A crown of bone, a cloak of chains.
His breath is rot, his gaze is blight,
He sits the throne with evil might.
From fissures foul and sulphur steam,
He cuts the seams of mortals' dreams.

His seat is forged from children's bones,
With ribs for rails a skullen Throne.
It sits atop a pile of molten ash,
What's left of his victims trashed.
His army's banners sewn from flesh,
Each thread a tale of a messy death.
He rules a court of hounds and ghouls—
Where light is banished and darkness rules.

Oh woe, oh pain, the bells do toll,
For every scream, he takes a soul.
Your voice will rot, your tears will dry,
Still bound in chains, but soon you'll die.
Lament, lament, for torture calls—
No hope remains inside these halls.

You run? The rocks will burn your feet.
Can't hide, The walls are searing heat.
The hills have eyes, the forrest dark,
His minions hunt, your chances stark.
He Travels without a sound or shape—
His gaze transfixes, you can't escape.
His shadow drinks the moon and sun,
And finds you long before you run.

Behind him crawl the faceless dead,
With flesh dripping a putrid dread.
They chant his name in choking moans,
And beat their drums with human bones.
The skies turn black beneath their tread,
The rivers choke with the blood of the dead.
No prayer can stop the coming flood—
The Mountain King now drinks your blood.

Oh woe, oh pain, the bells do toll,
No fire warms, no church is whole.
He feeds on hope, he harvests fear—
And leaves but ash when he draws near.
The cries, the chains, the cursed knell—
You kneel before the Mountain King of Hell!

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "The Mountain King of Hell" - Song by SpIkEy Lyrics and arrangement by SpIkEy Beat derived from the classical tune "In the Hall of the Mountain King" by Edvard Grieg in 1907 Copyright © 2025 SpIkEy www.suno.com/@spikey76 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ In caverns cursed, where angels fell, He wakes beneath an ashen shell. A thousand years of tortured sleep, Now clawing through the mountain deep... He stirs with fire in hollow veins, A crown of bone, a cloak of chains. His breath is rot, his gaze is blight, He sits the throne with evil might. From fissures foul and sulphur steam, He cuts the seams of mortals' dreams. His seat is forged from children's bones, With ribs for rails a skullen Throne. It sits atop a pile of molten ash, What's left of his victims trashed. His army's banners sewn from flesh, Each thread a tale of a messy death. He rules a court of hounds and ghouls— Where light is banished and darkness rules. Oh woe, oh pain, the bells do toll, For every scream, he takes a soul. Your voice will rot, your tears will dry, Still bound in chains, but soon you'll die. Lament, lament, for torture calls— No hope remains inside these halls. You run? The rocks will burn your feet. Can't hide, The walls are searing heat. The hills have eyes, the forrest dark, His minions hunt, your chances stark. He Travels without a sound or shape— His gaze transfixes, you can't escape. His shadow drinks the moon and sun, And finds you long before you run. Behind him crawl the faceless dead, With flesh dripping a putrid dread. They chant his name in choking moans, And beat their drums with human bones. The skies turn black beneath their tread, The rivers choke with the blood of the dead. No prayer can stop the coming flood— The Mountain King now drinks your blood. Oh woe, oh pain, the bells do toll, No fire warms, no church is whole. He feeds on hope, he harvests fear— And leaves but ash when he draws near. The cries, the chains, the cursed knell— You kneel before the Mountain King of Hell!

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