The eyeless prophet speaks
From his cold tomb
An ancient revenge is claimed
Hear the voices raising

Battle recall, uprising
Armed with iron and fire
From Nether Regions they come
Fear the black hordes

No regrets, no doctrine
They are their temple
No commands, no Lord
Antichristian violent march

Crushing crosses, looting churches
Intruding candescent iron rods
In the sodomite clerics’ asses

Crushing crosses, looting convents
Burning nuns at the stake
Hypocritical whores of God

The priests of Christ are pursued
Chased like wild animals
They’re only cannon fodder
Christian flesh to the vermin

The millstone is grinding fine
The monks’ blood is her wate

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