I feel in the air my morbid thoughts of desecration.
When all turns black as the night, I look the moon... as a lonely wolf.
In supremacy.

Runes cross my doubts, and fears bring me the forgotten memories of castles.
Lost in the holes of time...
so far... and dark.

And I raise, invencible and ancient,
with the knowledge of centuries of honor and dust.
Immersed in the tragedy of ancestors.
With strenght, with pride, with the eyes injected in
fanthomless hatred... of a dying abyss.

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