The smell of something
burning wide.
The smoke and the soot,
the sky's behind.
The Death is growing up
From the Evil seeds -
Its sprouts are out for blood
At the Battlefield.

It is the scorchedearth policy -
The annihilation
of all living things.
The fight from dawn till dusk,
The fight till death.
There is feeling in the Dark
Of the Night's cold Breath.

The white moon is lighting up
The Reign of Bloody Sleep.
The black crows are flying -
They are the Heralds of Death.

The smell of rotting corpses is everywhere.
The souls are flowing
to the Eternal Rest.
The human's deeds are like
Insanity.
The whole Earth is converting
Into the Battlefield!

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