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Sinful paths to desolation,

The mastery of this procreation

Revel with all misery

To rip their hearts in agony

I see the strength of my world

Those I hold sacred, they should live,

The gate of the flesh now is closed

Apocalypse is coming, we will feel

Now Northern winds have come

The bitter cold grab their souls

Forever lurking in this place

The Nightfall Deathly Symbols ills!

Ceremonies at their burial grounds

Oh in what wretched times we all live

From grave to grave, the prayers fail

The full blossom of this odious death

Standing by the cemetary gate

Wide awake and fully desolate

And Open are the doors of the horizon

Unlocked its bolts to bring their final breath

I see the strength of this fog

No mercy for those with no will

The traits of these pestilence unleashed

and to the pits we'll all reveal in pain

Oh in what wretched times we all live

Apocalypse is coming, we will feel...