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An Aeon of ill-reprieve;
Treading on the waters of damnation;
ill-repute and out of time;
I sift through the sands of Ebb and Wrinkle;
Via for ones' wrath;
Entrant for the sacred conscious;
I'll leave them a bloody pyle;
A pile of sullen ashes;
Abode the bringers of wrath;
Brings Desolation and unrighteous sacrament;
An unholy temple arises;
There is a yearn for the skye and all its treasures;
But there is yet to find one peace;
One Solace to rule the void;
And Suffage the ill-gotten spirits of old;
I shall walk among the ruins of cities;
I shall not mock the children of God;
I shall Arise in victory;
For on a day like this, there is only victory;
Only triumph and exaltation;
Only peace through annihilation;
And no pledge to sew;
For I shall walk among the valley of death;
Without fear of riddance;
And Walk with a glare of glory;
That cuts the devil deep;
An sword that will never rest;
And an armour that will not dau-sheen;
As Babylon falls in death and not surrender;
It's queen to perish above all oblivion;
The whore and it's suckle destroyed;
And a Carpathian trace laid afoot;

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