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Far from the land where the death is at home
He rose up from his tombstone
With the ghouls on his side,
he's the conqueror of the night
On his back, the lantern shines bright
He's wandering only praying for his death
Death that he may not find
Not granted to be alive,
but forced to be undead
There was nothing he had to regret
Throughout the night the smell of the death
Wrecking living lands, can't find rest
The unholy shovel in his hands, leaving decay
Yorick the preacher of the damned
Reinforced with the power of his forefathers
He can strike them all down
So he joined the league,
to fight and to defeat
Everyone who stands in his way
Throughout the night the smell of the death
Wrecking living lands, can't find rest
The unholy shovel in his hands, leaving decay
Yorick the preacher of the damned
Yorick: "Remember Yorick Mori!"