Necrocommandments

Our fist are totally
without terror

And our heart is made of steel
with blood becoming venom

Proud I growl, and proud I feel
I hear those screams twisted
with overthrown sound

Our fist ponch the life
and winds

Our fist are slicing
cuts with their nails

And our heart is made
of steel, with blood
becoming venom

No candels, no images, we're the squadron
and weapons of death metal
deep, so deep in our soul

The play we rode and ride, so black
we're people with war instruments
to cult death metal
as old ones

Loyalty to our music the way of life
anthem to hate, anthem to violence
the earth shakes, down to the care
'coz the growls we crank