Gathered are they, the wolves
From the north
And the tribes of
The underworld hordes
Heathen men
From pagan wastelands
Joined with them have they

The stench of blood. holy blood!
Have penetrated their woods and
Fields too long
Ravens flew as messengers
From hill to hill

They brought harsh
Blasphemous chant
As ancient as time it self
Whispered by the wind which
Cries for the waning moon

The beholders of the cr0ss, shall
Be mesmerized by fear
Their fate denies the fact of such
Creations

Man, beast-the hordes of the
Underworld
Bound by chains foged by
Pagan blood
To night they shall feast
Tonight the ravens and wolves
Shall feast
Upon blood, of those of the
Light who beholds the cross
Beneath the remains of a civilisation

Centuries of sorrow!!!
Centuries of pain!!!