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At the stroke of twelve we arise from our crypts

To gather mortal blood as foretold in our ancient scripts

The graveyard still in the moonlight

For the sun has taken flight

Our whispers now awaken the damned and dead

By My Lord Sanguis we shall be lead

Silently we march to bring death to the night

They will not be saved by the absent light

Stalking, Striding, Death is Walking

Lurking, Skulking, Night is Mocking

Hiding, Feeble, Day is Fleeting

Sleeping, Soundly, Time has run out

The town within our grasp

With death it is clasped

The risen stalk the living

We slay them all, unforgiving

They scatter like roaches

Their demise fast approaches

Lord Sanguis Leads this cull

Their cries of pain null

None Hath Survived The Night

Once again the darkness casts the town in tranquility

Their blood glistens in the starlight, granting us gentility

Commanding the undead to gather the killed

Back to the courtyard our quest unfulfilled

Passing now through the darkened trees

Not a single whisper or breeze

Back to the bell tower

We shall gain great power

Enter in to the chamber below

Taking with us, our rotting foe

The pentagram is etched into the floor

Pile the bodies upon the ground

Create a heaping and bloody mound

The blood trickles down into the engraving

The spell by their blood is paving

We shall blot out the sun

The incantation is now being spun

Pile the bodies upon the ground

Create a heaping and bloody mound

The blood trickles down into the engraving

The spell by their blood is paving

We shall blot out the sun

The incantation is now being spun

By the dark of the night

Bring the end of the light

Take away the accursed day

Consume the world in decay