---

I reload my gun and fire the flame of malice,

Their weakness feeds Satan's triumph.

Unholy atmosphere, the new dawn is soon,

The decay of a feeble deity of yours.

Over the storm of bullets, a fierce aura born.

In middle of a frozen soil, I fire the flame to destroy the land of gods.

A pure form of wrath, a sacrifacing unmercyful ritual.

I'm my own god.

They will die over the storm.