Minnen svunna stiger ter ur tidens vittrande stoft. Ur ledenstiger de fram, en gyllene flamma av hopp.
Ett fraktets dova
tcken, nrd av nid och hn.
Blndad av raseri, p hmndens vinger buren.
Stigna som vredens herrar...
Vekas bane vilsnas
ljus.
Vanmakten infr vredens hand, speglar
i blinda gon. Sprda och tomma, sprider etter,
med kluven tunga.
Blodets
stma berusar och nr, ger mig t kampen.
Skapare av vanvettets kaos, en ny tid r hr...
Stigna som vredens herrar...
Vekas bane
vilsnas ljus.
Blodsmak i munnen, stillad ro hungern. En ensam jakt fr den valde allena. Krnt om natten vid
vanvettets tron. Att
ett rike fda ur de ddas aska.
Stilla ro djuren i viljan och sjlen. En nalkande vittring och vi ger oss hn. Den eviga kamp som tas
av tiden. Men dock och vilde bringar segern.
Som en viskande klinga, slr sanningens ord.
Frnyelsens timma, vredens
tid...
Stigna som vredens herrar...
Vekas bane vilsnas ljus.
[Translate to English:]
Lost memories arise again,
from the withering stuff of time.
They step forth from the ranks, a golden flame of hope.
The dull haze of disdain. Nourished by
spite and scorn
Blinded by fury. Borne on the wings of vengeance.
Risen as the masters of wrath...
Bane of the weak, light of
the lost.
The powerlessness before the hand of wrath, is mirrored in blind eyes. Brittle and empty, spreading venom, with a cloven
tongue
The sweetness of the blood inebriates and nourishes, gives me to the fight. Maker of the chaos of madness, a new time has
come...
Risen as the masters of wrath...
Bane of the weak, light of the lost.
The taste of blood in my mouth, my hunger
appeased. A lonely hunt for the chosen alone. Crowned at night at the throne of madness. To bear a kingdom out of the ashes of the
dead.
Still are the beasts in will and soul. A scent drawing near, we indulge ourselves. The eternal battle that time takes. But
the savage brings victory.
Like a whispering blade. The words of truth strike. The hour of renewal, the age of
wrath...
Risen as the masters of wrath...
Bane of the weak, light of the lost.
