Given a gift of darkness, our coven embraces the heritage Practising forgotten arts, bloodline is the rite of passage Burning can not erase our kin Blessed be the patriots of sin Terrorized, victimized The taking of our mortal lives Changes nothing Touched by devilish desire, demonized by authority The flesh may burn but our spirits are marked by eternity Our essence is beyond the ashen skin Blessed be the patriots of sin Forbidden knowledge runs in our veins Risking the stake, mentally or physically We are the unknown, the chaos breed Shattering the false, spitting at stagnation (so be it, patriots we are, patriots of sin) At night we speak to the dead, we sing praise to the moon Burning candles and herbs Mixing oak, ash and thorn, forming the sign of the horns As it is and must be Among the masses we walk, revealed only by our eyes Burning fiercer, stronger than the common man`s Nothing is stronger than the flames within Blessed be the patriots of sin Blessed be the patriots of sin Blessed be.