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Black become the suns beam in the days

That will come

It is harsh in the world

Whoredom rife

When my ancestors calling

To fight and die

I will paint with grimson gore

The caves of lies

With courage of the forefarthers

Flaming pride

Towards the golden halls of might

Be my guide

I greet the gods of heathen soul

The sons of day

I greet the night and her daugthers

Pagan's my pray

And when my soul flies higher

And I lay

Let thunder roar and lightning strikes

On that day