For everything around me which I experience is cold and dead
The blood of others are of a colder substance and taste
Therefore I must spill and serve,
The blood that in me runs vibrant
In the frost of the dying minds,
Of Western society I recreate
It will be the resurrection,
Of the brotherhood of holy d**h
In the year of the Holy Roman Empire,
Of night times to come and last
The day of which I shall,
Lay my sword upon your throats
Upon the mighty warriors,
Of the land of northern regions
Upon the shores of our desolate coast within the waves
I can see the wreckage floating ashore of the dying culture
And so I greet those who still have eyes to observe and see
And who still have courage to break through into the dying light