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Bloodless moon tonight forsakes the dead's last rest |
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Scattered by frozen death winds |
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Are the bones of all who died without remembrance |
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Died alone their own special way |
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To pay their sins and god's betrayal |
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Heretic souls, forgotten and banished |
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Dwelling in eternal punishment |
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And rest in the dark on unblessed soil |
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Can never again hold the torches of life |
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And will never reach the eternity's fire |
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Which they are longing for so many aeons |
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Blind are god's eyes and falseness hides behind his face |
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Not able to forgive past sins, but praises himself as your lord |
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Wings unfold in the crimson dusk |
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During thunder defeats darkness silence |
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Storm is coming from the mountain side |
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Came to pray for the dead's last will |
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And louder than the loudest thunder their chants resound |
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That all blood freezes by their sad melodies |
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And mist rises up and all coffins burst |
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Creeping shades arise with the angel's lament |
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Panic is ruling, but it's too late to escape |
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As bony fingers grip for white silk and ripping their sweet bloody skin |
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Coming through the soil with the shadows, creeping evil |
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They arise from graves, legions of the dead |
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To wreck all what is of God |
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Holding high the weapons they were buried with |
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Swords and axes, armors of steel |
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Iron blades cut the angel's flesh |
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Screams of torment calling loud |
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But suffocate shortly after |
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And all voices grow silent |
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As blades cut through their throats |
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Blood and death, the dead's only war chant, conquers the grey mist |
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Under moonlight, white and cold they die |
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Suffocate on own holy blood |
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And merciless slayers stalking through the darkness |
