Ancestral Myth - March Of The Walking Dead lyrics

Lords of darkness and of the kingdom of d**h Of what is rotting and decaying Hear my call and my blasphemous prayers May the walking dead rise In your name sacrifice has been done Thousand times the sacred knife has struck On your altar has been shed Pure and innocent blood I summon the old souls Go back to your last resting place Have your righteous revenge On those whose the heart is beating Leave your grave and your dusty burial vault To walk in the sun Open the gates A freezing wind rise suddenly As rustling and scratching surround me Emaciated hands are pushing the soil As stripped of flesh corpses free themself from the ground Look at my sons Hellfire burns deep in their sockets Obcess by a necrophiliac and cannibalistic hunger Wriggling maggots rush in their veins March of the walking dead Boundless is the power of the necromancy As will be the number of my swarm of undeads Soon I'll let them on the world And the living will be my slaves Limping and strumbling Crawling and dragging themselve They are slowly coming up to you My mind has made them alive and starving Ready to serve and desirous to k** They will be the incarnation of my wrath Sublime perverted souls Walk, children of the nether regions I free you from the chains of d**h Follow me towards your first meal To wallow in blood Limping and strumbling Crawling and dragging themselve They are slowly surrounding you The first creatures appear at the horizon Groaning hideously Limping and strumbling Crawling and dragging themselve They are slowly clutching at you Atrocious and dreadfull monsters Fiends escaped from hell People try to flee from the repulsive cadavers But the undeads are thousands Smell of putrefaction fills the air As cries of terror and of entreaty echoes Victims are overrun and cut to shreds As the ghouls devour their flesh The smell of decay is gradually hidden By the odour of fresh blood Insane, greedy, gory saraband What a pleasure and a delight I summon the new souls Stay in your slashed corpses Have your righteous revenge On those who didn't help you Stop laying in your gore And join all my sons The gates are gaping A freezing wind rise suddenly As rustling and scratching surround me Emaciated hands are pushing the soil As stripped of flesh corpses free themself from the ground Look at my sons Hellfire burns deep in their sockets Obcess by a necrophiliac and cannibalistic hunger Wriggling maggots rush in their veins March of the walking Dead Boundless is the power of the necromancy As is the number of my swarm of undeads Now they walk on the world And the living are my slaves