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Flock of vultures

Feast at the scorched field

Everyone is welcomed

To this kingdom of joyless bliss

Swords and spikes

With human skulls at top

Smell of death is all around

Let the bodies rot in peace

Armored legions will collide

Deadly toys in leaders hands

Crave of gore dissolves their minds

Carry out any madman's commands

Swords of shining steel

Inspire the berserker's rage

Armor of the mortals

Painted in crimson stains

Ride of the mighty hordes

Loud as a hammer of Thor

Harvest of human skulls

On the fields of doom

Blow the horn

And mayhem will prevail

Crystallized fury

Fills the air above this place

Screams of pain

Are drown in roar of triumph

Northern wind will bring away

The stench of thousands dead

Born to cut each other's throat

Men with iron faith

Bravest warriors ride

Towards their certain death

Blood upon the armor

Looks like best reward

Crusaders brings their justice

On the blade of sword

Terrifying battle madness

Brings the pointless death

Rage has to find its way out

Unless it burst

And burn all around war

Is a game of powerlords

Testifying their faith