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Harlot with repel voice

Sings the discord

Fanatics' glory shine

The beacon of exile

Pallid sun fill the sky

Reign down fever, deteriorate

What was will never be

Sea of bodies, infinity

Cold gleam of stars

On surface of the dead

Onyx vermins crawl

The fetid piles of flesh

Ash reduced to ash

Eye torn for the eye

Desolate wind roam

Monuments of the past

Not religions

Or evolved thought

Were the saviour

From the one in rags

Solar flame fades away

Ghastly tomb floats the space

Ravenous light vaporize

Exhalation of mass graves