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Moon reigns the sky

The wind, it seems to cry

A column of hooded brothers

Reciting texts of their forefathers

Fires begin to rise

Dark figure in disguise

The prayers have been answered

The flame, it thrills and almost dances

The moon of tribal rites

To get the blessing of the sight

And under pale and ghostly light

Witness the spirits of the night

Runes are being carved

Bones leave many scars

Drops of newborn’s blood

Spilled on a metal stud

The figure steps from fire

He shall grant them their desire

Their wish is being spoken

The bond is never broken

The moon of tribal rites

To get the blessing of the sight

And under pale and ghostly light

Witness the spirits of the night

The fire has died out

The air brings no sound

The pagan night is gone

Cast out by the sun

Cultists start to spread

The sacrificed lie dead

Left to rot and wither

Until the next rite happens hither

The moon of tribal rites

To get the blessing of the sight

And under pale and ghostly light

Witness the spirits of the night