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At the womb of the stone torches crouch for shelter

Shaped clouds from glimmering lands

Have been reaching out too far

Here ache for an intimate saviour

Catch a carrion moon, hear a grieving sun

And a grim warning not to leave the village

When the polar night falls...

Sought a golden view from the white roof of earth

No safer triumph, no holier supper

Clawed his soul, began to eat his frozen heart

Perish in polar hiss hysteria!

Red rises the haze between teeth

It has thus been sincе ages

Yet the chants havе lost all tragedy

Many have come to be slain upon the alter of ice

Many that imagined footprints of God

While the noise may throw wires and sever heads

These wombs had never given him birth

To raise sword against the void that feeds

Is a sign of a savage trance

And a hissing trance is wherein he remains

He who is drained of pure red

Polar Hiss Hysteria!