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An Aeon of ill-reprieve;

Treading on the waters of damnation;

ill-repute and out of time;

I sift through the sands of Ebb and Wrinkle;

Via for ones' wrath;

Entrant for the sacred conscious;

I'll leave them a bloody pyle;

A pile of sullen ashes;

Abode the bringers of wrath;

Brings Desolation and unrighteous sacrament;

An unholy temple arises;

There is a yearn for the skye and all its treasures;

But there is yet to find one peace;

One Solace to rule the void;

And Suffage the ill-gotten spirits of old;

I shall walk among the ruins of cities;

I shall not mock the children of God;

I shall Arise in victory;

For on a day like this, there is only victory;

Only triumph and exaltation;

Only peace through annihilation;

And no pledge to sew;

For I shall walk among the valley of death;

Without fear of riddance;

And Walk with a glare of glory;

That cuts the devil deep;

An sword that will never rest;

And an armour that will not dau-sheen;

As Babylon falls in death and not surrender;

It's queen to perish above all oblivion;

The whore and it's suckle destroyed;

And a Carpathian trace laid afoot;