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From a wasted land we came.
Where in abscence of light,
darkness prevails.
While the flock burn their dreams away.
We are walking a road of nails,
we are walking a road of nails,
we will never be unchained.

Alone! We'll go.
Through blood red skies, hatred and flames.
I left behind my rotten seeds.

A speech in dark,
pure blasphemy.

From now on the
conquest has begun.
In our hearts the deepest beat,
of wolf, and man.

Deep into the woods we fight,
In obscure solitude'il black
magic reigns!

Alone! We forever will.
Hearing this black wind whisper
from the hills.
My hands, my words,
the sign, of the, curse.

From a wasted land.
Where every night darkness descends,
not only silence can be heard.
From a wasted land,
when in the night....I awake!

Spelled by noise.
Proud of being cursed.
Black wind whisper.
Where black magic reigns.

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