Rains of Castamere

I hear the words echo in my head,
This hall brings former whispers of some quiet conversation.
The Lord of Castamere had said,
“Who are you to make me bow so low before your high station?
In a coat of gold or coat of red,
A lion still has claws, mine just as long and sharp as yours, my lord.”
He smiled at him as if to say, “Tywin boy, That’s all the truth I know.”

It’s gonna take a lot to make me bow down to you.
There’s nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do.
And now the rains fall in Castamere,
Weeping over his hall tonight with not a soul to hear.

The lions cry out in the night,
The pride of red has learned a deadly lesson in humility.
A lion’s mouth was meant to bite,
Sure as the rains will never wash away the rebellion’s hard brutality.
Now no one dares to go inside, frightened of these ghosts they might become.

It’s gonna take a lot to make me bow down to you.
There’s nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do.
And now the rains fall in Castamere,
Weeping over his hall tonight with not a soul to hear.

Tywin boy, That’s all the truth I know.

It’s gonna take a lot to make me bow down to you.
There’s nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do.
And now the rains fall in Castamere,
And now the rains fall in Castamere,
And now the rains fall in Castamere,
And now the rains fall in Castamere,
And now the rains fall in Castamere,
Weeping over his hall tonight with not a soul to hear.

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