The black Northern winds, swept the dust
who covered my ancient tomb.
The prophecy of the ancient millenary,
call the
horde of the goat...
Darkness entomb, the souls of the saints
sentenced in front of the
goathrone.
Sacrificial...
Drinking the blood!
Ritual...
Burn the crypt!
The unhealthy moonlight, rise my altar of
corporal sacrifice.
On a ground cover of ice,
the ritual of Northern fullmoon,
the desire of infernal majesty,
the
submissiveness of the Black Pentagram.
The clouds of blood, watch for again, their immediate victims.