For everything around me which I experience is cold and dead
The blood of others are of a colder substance and taste
Therefore I must spill and serve
The blood that in [bad word] vibrant
In the frost of the dying minds
Of western society I recreate
It will be the resurrection
Of the brotherhood of holy death
In the year of the holy roman empire
Of night times [bad word] and last
The day of which I shall
Lay my sword upon your throats
Upon the mighty warriors
Of the land of northern regions

Upon the shores of our desolate coast within the waves
I can see the wreckage floating ashore of the dying culture
And so I greet those who still have eyes to observe and see
And who still have courage to break through into the dying light