Stand high as the the holy kingdom crumbles with the fog. Pierce the heart of the high king, inhale the sanguine mist of god. The battlefield runs red with the blood of angels, we step on the bible as we spit upon it's pages. As the fog rolls in at the foot of dawn, we ravage the kingdom as we march on. Disembowel and eat the holy spawn, we march for the glory of Aamon! Fall! As you stare into the eyes of hatred. Crawl! For the glory of Satan.
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