---

Through the abyss of the woods
Almost balletically, a coal-black carriage is thrown
Bringing slaves to the grave of a once infamous nymph
Where Sex and Death hope and wait her promised return

Hideously misshapen figures skulk in the clammy mist
Throwing shadows of war like prophecies
"Oh sweet scarlet Witch
Come back to our hearts
Hell knows we were born in love with Thee"

Misanthropy plants a wet kiss on her forehead
As the old moon hugs forlorn the shore,
And the dulcet whispers of the Damned in the battlefield
Eclipse the stars above

The Dead escape from their graves
To exalt her throne and kill for her

Chaos is spat from the legions she leads
Cruelty and lust are presents that she'll give
Covenants of devotion to the dead, dark, and past
Arise morbid pleasures of Malice born at dusk

(Storm clouds gather,
proclaiming the birth
of another hell on earth)

In a graveyard of statues with open wounds
Wild winds sing in chora for the great apocalypse
And the Beast within
That we, the Damned, are about to unleash

Through the mist as if a dream
We hear her voice...
Under the glare of a waning moon
Sweet Malice returns

Defiant,
Splendid and vivid,
Bejeweled with pelts of many enemies
Hell knows we seek victory
Now that she runs at will
Through the ashes of angels in the battlefield,
We unfurl the flag of hate
While a nimbus of ravens consecrates our stakes

Dark clouds drift rapidly across the sky
And a breath of cold wind seems to drift over us
The solemn tones of an old cathedral clock
Announce midnight and a war that dawn...

Like the ominous calm which precedes some more
Than usually terrific outbreak of the elements;
She murmurs a prayer, a prayer for those she loves best
And then this she screams...

"War"

Now we slide across the Plain of Jezreel
Insanity blooms behind our masks
For forty days and forty festival nights
It'll rain a flood of inhumanity and scythe

Malice born at dusk

'Neath the tilt of the zodiac
We rise and shine as a Vatican State
Feeding on the sanctity of sin
We spit on heaven
And strangle all losers and angels with ivory-white feathered necks
Behind a veil of ebonies
Mountains of crucified silhouettes
Extend throughout the field like Asphodel
In the arms of an ancient God
The stars laugh from afar
This is the end of the pathetic reign of Man

Dark clouds drift rapidly across the sky,
As the old moon hugs forlorn the shore
So begins the Golden Age of the Damned
Led by impious Death and necromantic tongues

In a graveyard of statues with open wounds
Wild winds sing in chora for the great apocalypse...

This is the end of the pathetic reign of Man

So begins the Golden Age of the Damned

This is the end of the pathetic reign of Man.

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