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And now the land of battle is a field of standing corpses…



Beyond the hills long forgotten, when the fog sets in

And the crimson moon is full, the battle will begin

Warriors rise from the earth, soldiers cursed

All honour long lost, they are not the first to be



Horrid puppets on the day of the dead

When metal strikes metal and metal becomes flesh

Hear the cries of battle, see the damned at war

Ancient weapons clash, they are fate’s whores



The battlefield spawns from its bowels the undead

For genocide endless over graves stained with blood

A prophecy told of corpses at war

Mark of martyrs, mark of hate, carved in stone, carved in bone



There is no salvation from this bloodbath of souls

It’s a reign of damnation, there’s no heaven or hell

And they clash and kill, clash and kill endlessly

Valhalla forgotten on the day, of the dead



The battlefield spawns from its bowels the undead

For genocide endless over graves stained with blood

A prophecy told of corpses at war

Mark of martyrs, mark of hate, carved in stone, carved in bone



It’s the day of the dead; it’s the day of the dead

It’s the day of the dead; it’s the day of the dead



It’s the day of the dead; it’s the day of the dead

It’s the day of the dead; it’s the day of the dead



The battlefield spawns from its bowels the undead

For genocide endless over graves stained with blood

A prophecy told of corpses at war

Mark of martyrs, mark of hate, carved in stone, carved in bone