We dwell here,
beneath the mountain,
and so we have done
for thousands of years.

Not dead, not alive,
we linger in-between,
no peace for us,
no rest we can find.

We swore an oath,
we swore to fight,
to stand by Isildur’s side.
But that oath we broke…

We’re the Sleepless Dead,
Isildur cursed us.
Here we’ll linger,
we cannot find rest.

Not till Gondor’s Lord,
the Heir of Isildur
orders us to fight,
can we fulfill our word.

Will we be released?
Will the oath we broke
ever be fulfilled?
When will we find peace?

We dwell here,
beneath the mountain,
and so we may do
for a further thousand years…