Willed by winters so called frost
Fixed the anxieties from grip

The frost that burned the honorees
Underneath the heavy clouds

The lifted sword, the broken shield
The end that drew the final word
From the frozen mouth of Arkhangelsk
Let them go, let them burn the world to cinders

Let the rats run down

Falling through the tungsten skies
The burning clouds of Arkhangelsk

To the eye of judgment now

What will stand when the time of the end

Time of the end
Center stone into fire

On to nothing and nothing to lose
They gather, groaning to the souls
Of the grinding winds of Arkhangelsk
In the world when movement in
The fabric, everything dies

The storm that sweeps the world away
From the frozen plains of Arkhangelsk

You hear it from the morning star

What others brought

And the land, forgot

Soaring through the nether mills
Through blazing stars, the time suns

The grinder now that carries us
Through the bloody end of Arkhangelsk