---

That garbage nailed

False prophet leading

The weak spirits

Spewing your words

I am on my way

Wielding my sword

I'll spill your blood

Of your raw meat

The ruins of hell

The most profane awaits you

Crows sing, angels cry

The return of the red sky

The soldiers march

With flags raised

The symphony of death

The night called for the dead

The forest sings

With the breath of the wind

The desired symphony

Angels cry

Souls scream

The ruins of hell

The most profane awaits you

Crows sing, angels cry

The return of the red sky