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From the ice-cold norwegian hills,

and from the frozen silver mountain,

from my world I consider you as dead.

I am born of evil and of sin,

I've always walked unholy paths

that you never seen or heard of.

I must fight this endless battle alone!

You freeze to death in morning mist,

great vast landscape, frostbitten woodlands,

frozen tundra, hellish blizzard storms.

Here snow will always fall,

black majestic winter magic,

the evil frozen moonlit nights.

In morning mist,

the great vast landscape,

frostbitten woodlands,

frozen tundra.

There exists no fucking God,

this is my Pandaemonium.

The unholy north and the

cold grip of frost.

Cold grip of frost!

Screams from tormented souls

echoes in these towering mountains,

the burning pain is meant to last.

The direction of the cold winds

brings the putrid smell of death.

All heretics and devils stand up,

ride towards unholy death.

Inhuman coldness, hellish winds,

black demons of the past,

norwegian winter hell.

Violent battle cries,

perverted death noise.

Victorious echoes of war,

death and despair.

Candlelight by own blood

and heathen heritage!