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Across many miles to German's land, frison's born and |
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Belgian frontiers, snow storms are raging... |
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Tryggvasons battles are near, the white fields separate us. |
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Christian! You're gonna die by our frost! |
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At middle age time, Limburg create lots of myths, |
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ancient pagan cult, wrap of mysteries. |
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invaded by the filthy Christian tribe. |
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we drive them back to the fields of impurity. |
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let them die in their rotteness! |
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[Cronos:] |
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"Midnight paths are now engaged to our lust. |
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Sons of SATHANAS, we are gathered for the one. |
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Frosted snow falls on cadaveric faces, |
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colder than the cross of ice. |
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The unholy benediction of the silver moon. |
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spiked crown shinning on these marble steps!" |
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Limburg, across the Vesder to the black forest, |
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there stand the crypt where were invoked |
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demonic souls they came from the Gehenna to us. |
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to bless their legions in which they trust, |
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praying for us warriors of the dark Pentagram. |
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Christianity is just a matter oftime. |
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We'll drive them back to their Nazareth hills, |
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with the solicitude of SATAN! |
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Burning their churches, jagged their whores. |
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Ashes to ashes, dust to dust... |
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As they please us to rip them off like porks! |
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Tryggvasons battles, the ancient Belgian war. |
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The war without sanity... Without mercy... |
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A war for an era without Christian lies... |
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Oooohh! Lord of lust and fear of impiety... |
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It's time for us to drift in the dark tranquility. |
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Limburg, town of my ancestors!!! |
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In the eternity of times I'll worship you forever... |
