For everything around me i experience is cold and dead

The blood of others is of a colder substance and taste

Therefore i must spill and serve

The blood that in me runs vibrant

In the frost of the dying min

D.S. of western society i recreate

It will be the resurrection

Of the brotherhood of holy death

In the year of the Holy Roman Empire

Of night times to come and last

The day of which i shall

Lay my sword upon your throats

Upon the mighty warriors

Of the land of northern regions

Upon the shores of our desolate coast within the waves

I can see the wreckage floating ashore of the dying

culture

And so i greet those who still have eyes to observe and

see

And who still have courage to break through into the

dying light