Raging torrents of hate envelope my ghost
My searing eyes do strain this flaming cold
No claw nor sword will claim these ones
I can see the wretched ones stand
I can feel their forsaken hands
I will grant them torments at last
None more will I languish, no more to claim
Desolate madness without a name
A triumph to bestill as ice upon frost
A rapture of death, the path of the lost
I will stand above this plain of flames
I will break their will so insane
I will defy those grotesque and lame
I will deify my immortal grace
