The spearhead of resistance
Shoots through the doors of false accord
Spit on them and their temple
Shattered glass and splintered stone

This is their night of massacre
The Crescent has breathed its last
This is the march of storm and tyranny
The blighted night of your own decree

No prisoners are taken
No one is spared from this deed
Wasting in the corridors
Of forgotten history

From crooked lips, the Sacred One
Can only create perfection

Temple now aflame
Fire sprayed across their hole
Burned books and icons
They'll all be ashes tomorrow

This is their night of massacre
The Crescent has breathed its last
This is the march of storm and tyranny
The blighted night of your own decree