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Deep black clouds

High above on the crimson sky

On the forest of golden trees

On this autumn eve

With pride I stand on the hill

Unforgiving nordic wind is punishing my pale skin

Misanthropic forest on the pagan soil

Where the lighting strikes to the river of blood

Two ravens are flying high above in the northern sky

The wolves are howling human hate

As I enter the forgotten gate

Gate to the forest of misanthropy

The mist rises from the forest’s Pagan soil

Sun sets to the horizon

Bloodstained path to the stone altar of inhumanity

That glows in the sinful moonlight