The bloody wrathful moon Stares down upon the earth From behind the dark clouds The moon's ray - the sky's curse Invades the temple Christian flock subjected to lies Insulted the land of our fathers By destruction of the sacred places we hold dear But we will not surrender that land Where our ancestors once dwelt And our sword of war was raised The battle is our deal of honour And what of the rusting swords Rusting in rotten blood spilt from the popes Our smiths will forge New swords from pain and evil And let wounds bleed Fire burn and hearts break Bitter tears will wash wounds clean Inspiring the brave and evil spirit We will fight for the end Deal the final blow Until we meet the enemy Until the bloodied blade rests in our hand