Oh, lord of the sprout, this ground reaps my root and washes them in the filth of her own blood
Send me winds so cold to awake the hordes from endless sleeps, from buried skies
Send me winds so cold to awake the hordes from endless sleeps, from buried skies
A thousand of awaking lives, demonic hordes reborn in dark
Dark clouds called by choirs of ancient sanctify to fill the tears of prophecy
We ride to the darkest future, vengeance shall clean our souls, our deaths lost in illusion of fight
A thousand of awaking lives, demonic hordes reborn in dark
I condemn you on eternal damnation, so feel the wrath of my hordes ablaze
I'm standing proud above the victory, searching for the astral crown, forever to stop thy time
Dark age of the holy thrones, perish in my ways
My sights of the fog from mountainside, see the lights of the dark victory
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