The Count is joined to Mayhem, and Oslo set ablaze The whisperings of evil things that echoed in that place Boil and bubble to the surface, hardening black hearts Creatures of the night emerge to practice wicked arts In Helvete the plotters gather, the Black Circle of the damned Odin, Thor and Freyja are the symbols of their land And with the pride of Lucifer, the unborn Morning Star They hatch a scheme infernal, to reclaim who they are
Black skies over snow-white ground The walkers in the dark Lit pyres from sanctified firewood And watched the flames burn bright Fantoft, Skjold and Åsane Were scoured from the Earth Vengeance for crimes of Uppsala Arise, the pagan light!
Filled with the fury of the gods, The Circle strikes its blows Concealed no longer from the eyes of those whom they oppose Grishnackh’s dark designs are spread, infecting all they touch But some within the Circle yearn for a greater rush While Euronymous and Ihsahn talk of gods beneath the earth And Samoth walks with Grishnackh through the ashes of their work Another black-girt warrior is about to sow the seeds Of internecine bloodshed, the blackest of misdeeds
In a forest deep and dark The first lifeblood was spilled Obsessing over murder’s art Faust embraced his need to kill The knife he wielded slick with blood As he left his victim there In Lillehammer he would lie With thirty-seven wounds
Word, it travelled through the scene Of what Faust had done A pact of secrecy was sworn To keep it from the sun But tales of death were music to The ears of Count Grishnackh With Fantoft’s blaze still in his eyes He dreamed he could surpassTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.