Every fullmoon blood begins [bad word] through sinews of the greatest king of Goths
He wakes up angry going spread the death around for the famous glory of his own God
Great malice lighteth bloody eyes, the frightful pain will scream insight
He'll right through time revenge be sweet, his bones have [bad word] but soul can't die

His time [bad word] he'll shed the blood of thousands slain by his succinite brand

From the cemetery of silence, from the cemetery of death
King will ride to [bad word] future he has found a living path
No one angel takes a risk to show his face before the king
Even Gorgon's pale before him, he's afraid his magic ring

The King withdraws the wargs from their subterranean graves,
He harnesseth the chariot and summoneth the ghouls
But spirit of the death whispereth him that they couldn't raise
The dead Goth decide to resort to the secrecies of blooms

And then suddenly...

Saliva of the Great Wolf-leader
Waters the mould of cemetery's tombs
Corpses dwell by this nature of fear
 [bad word] from their loved riven wombs

In the center of the graveyard servants of demons are gathering
The king-ghost organized the significant council
Recall of avenge mournfully sounding on his lifeless lips
He tempteth corses by the fresh human blood,
After that the king stood the forces on their bony knees
And makes them pray for almighty Phoebe, the goddess of moon and flood

"And the countenance of the luna smiles back!"

Elimer, the founder of [bad word] was sworn enemy of Goths
And the king on his deathbed takes an oath to destroy the walls
Of the settlement of the own enemy's despicable posterity
And later the centuries he'll exhaust the mission of his destiny

Germanareh screams in darkness:
"My succinite sword shall slaughter thee,
Thy cattle, christian village & tribe
And certainly thy damned seed"

"If you found the reign of darkness,
You will find a sentry lee!"

Hitherto unbloodied umbrae of gothic warriors arose the swords above their heads and hailed:

"Vivat Rex!"

And glorious King's throwing up his hand crowned by firmament's stars
Only his formidable aspect inspireth the awe in souls of arch
And sepulchral obscurity filleth the hearts

Germanareh leads his troops of ghouls in the name of dark
Great warriors expires in the nocturnal sky its blood-curdling howl,
Rotting roots of ancient trees begin to moaning under dreadful army's march
And endless forest covered by odour of death in the bloodshot Devil's bowl

Wicked spirits stand at the edge of the forest
Their caddish glance lowered on the dell
The neighbourhood reddened by flames of hearth
In the next instant the horde from [bad word] 
Darting off to the village and
Their "holy" path was deified by argent-gleamy moon
succinite sword glares in the King's hand
The ghouls fell from welkin i' th' hazing gloom

Their attack was unexpected, people couldn't hide in dwellings
So men have to fight for freedom, for their lives against the Evil
Ghosts have burned so many houses that the murk have turned to bright light
Fearful thunder have announced the beginning of the Great Fight
Bloody rivers flew from high hills irrigating soil of graveyard
All the soldiers fought in battle for the fame of Germanareh
They will sacrifice their bodies 'cause they serve to Devil's main guard
He's the chosen one of spirits and he knows he'll be their monarch

Hundred men have died in moment tho' they fought in rage and courage
Women, children and the [bad word] to church for the salvation
They believe in their Ransomer which hath always helped in troubles
Ghosts have charred the shrine with people, - there came a suffocation

The antiquity of the precious cathedral's walls begin to decay
Under the yo