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Rot no more! This is where you belong!
You're here to survive and believing,
That even if you will die, your soul destroyed,
Your corpse will do more than all living.
What is that illness consuming your body,
Compared to ulcer-filled soul?

What is death in face of a life
By worms of existence gnawed?
Blood that gushes from wounds is ever so sweet…
It brings death in the place of sacrifice.
Until red becomes rust, until ritual lasts.

Deceived by gods, emissary of damned,
Who hear screams of torn-apart souls.
When horizon and ether is flood with red,
They will find peace among gashes of wind.

Tainted with droplets of blood,
Will perform the rites of disfigured Gods.
Weapons of flesh, drowning in pain.
They die…

Will they be demons, or benevolent gods,
That has been rejected by jealous old ones?
They will rise against the master in time,
And bring sunrise of new age to come!

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