Impaled slaves

Spear that, pointed,
will make perpetual your soul,
in the kingdom of damned,
in the circle of slaves,
offering your spirit to the crows,
offering your soul for your blood.

Impaled slaves, surrounded by,
the dark angels of the north of the icy bloody lands.
On either side of the altar, wolves in banquet,
will make an end to, to the human material,
with cry and blood.

The gates of the castle of death,
closed in the Viking’s darkness.
Frozen air and the smell of putrefaction
No escape, no chance of salvation.

Impaled slaves,
killed and offered to the spirits of the night.
Oppressed,
Killed and tortured by the sons of Evil.

The gates of the underworld,
prisoners of the sons of darkness,
frozen blood and smell of death,
no escape, no chance of salvation.

Pouring the blood in the skulls,
marching toward the torture,
bestial sacrifice,
desecration of the body and blood.

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