I hear the cries of the suffering,
I hear the whispers of the dead.
I hear the screams of the helpless,
I hear the voice of imminent dread.
I hear the prayers unanswered,
Elapsed by their merciful god.
I hear a tempest arising,
I perceive the escalating fog.

I feel the splendour of the wind,
Singing to me like death.
Feel the sting of my blade,
Stealing your last breath.
I see the might, eternal,
The return of the pagan flame.
I see the blood of liars,
And martyrs bereft and slain.

Hark upon the maelstrom, the ravens call,
That foretells of a great empires fall.

"I can see your virtues and innocence,
Yield as I take these from you.
What must ensue, what must be done,
A prophecy coming true."

This is hell on earth,
Arriving under crimson skies.
The heathen brethren cometh,
As Christendom fades and dies.
Our kingdom will cast a lengthy shadow,
Heritage that echoes throughout time.
A monument of a fateful day,
To be remembered how we lived and died.

---

Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.