| oh, cursed profanated thougths of glory return to me | |
| receive my every fall, my every pain and misfortune | |
| and wrath will born inside you | |
| stronger than sounds of bells | |
| primeval instincts will wake | |
| pagan brothers of our blood | |
| professing to the majesty of horned evil | |
| the war we'll begin | |
| will be the final fall of god's flock | |
| we'll have a bloodbath and covered with gore | |
| we'll praise the name of the highest | |
| what's you fallen god for us | |
| he had leaded people to eternal slavery | |
| his angels falling into night like dead swans | |
| to rise never again | |
| pagan around the wooden symbols | |
| transmitting the power from hands to hands | |
| blood for god of gods, king of kings | |
| unholy master |
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