Echoing footsteps in the heart of night
Polished floors and shining walls
On which a small dim lightbeam falls
From far where stars are burning bright
Stars here, seven, have gone dark and dead
A mocking crown for a withered tree
No hope nor glory is left to see
Empty words is all a prophecy ever said
The throne stands empty there up high
Like an echo from a long lost age
Faded, faded to a helpless cry
Till there is nothing left but a dying sigh
Who will now stand against Mordor’s rage?
Was the strength of Gondor nothing but a lie?