Through clouds of fog and ice we are gathered under a dark starry sky Our pagan fires are burning in the night Flames rise high up to the sky; unholy omen of hell Riding with the winds we have come with the strength of one thousand swords
The old man mutters words of hatred and grief His face scarred by traitor’s hands, eyes gazing into nothingness Shadow of a once mighty warrior Anxiously clenching the hilt of a rusty sword
Now the time of repent is close at hand The ground will start to open And hellfire, bright and perilous, seething messenger of death and pain Will fulfill its destiny destructively
For the day is not far when we will kill their sons and rape their daughters We will burn and plunder their villages Culminating in the destruction of their cursed churches Symbols of oppression and humiliation The glowing ashes of which they will behold before we finally cut their throats Smoke will rise from the ground The triumphant roar of our horde Condemned and mocked for so many years Will fill the air with a victorious rage
Ride along my faithful comrades And feast upon their rotting corpses And curse their poisonous blood for eternity For our race has sworn an oath to earth and elements The sermons of liars we despise, the prayers of weaklings we hate Their bodies will rot on the soil they so eagerly tried to flee Eyes picked by the ravens, their souls will wander the battlefield evermore The fields of retaliation where the christian race will meet its final doom No mercy for the weak, by wolves’ teeth the sheep will be slainTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
