---

Drowning in those waves of smoke

Which summits stand out like living roots

I feel them seizing me, wrapping me up,

Devouring me.

Here. They come, on and on,

Like plants born of satanic seeds

Cultivated in the Pandemonium,

They're going through the ground

A as if it did not exist,

Sprayed with innocent blood,

They proliferate in the void of subconscious.

As some of us are still resisting

Your strategy changes and liquefying,

You blend in with the red fluid,

Destroying our senses, creating new ones,

Unknown and scaring,

Taking us further

On until we give in

The ranks of the ancients

Decrease while those of The novices swell

Perpetuating

The truest forbidden

Tradition in your name.

Blanche fumée envoûtante,

Que nos idées pourrissent

Par ton pouvoir intense

Combattue par la horde dérisoire

Des vengeurs

De nos âmes désincarnées.