Gathered Are They, The Wolves
From The North
And The Tribes Of
The Underworld Hordes
Heathen Men
From Pagan Wastelands
Joined With Them Have They
The Stench Of Blood. Holy Blood!
Have Penetrated Their Woods And
Fields Too Long
Ravens Flew As Messengers
From Hill To Hill
They Brought Harsh
Blasphemous Chant
As Ancient As Time It Self
Whispered By The Wind Which
Cries For The Waning Moon
The Beholders Of The Cr0ss, Shall
Be Mesmerized By Fear
Their Fate Denies The Fact Of Such
Creations
Man, Beast-The Hordes Of The
Underworld
Bound By Chains Foged By
Pagan Blood