They stood on the shore proudly calling out 
The names of those before them, shield and axe lay beside The fires [bad word] the dawn the creaking timbers will fly over cold still Waters 

The mist lizard and fire brand will make the crossing to The land of cloud and rain 
Unleashing their faceless hordes upon those ripe for Tonquering 
Many terrible deeds will be done that day and blood will Mix clay 

Heathen gods will watch the unfolding glory with gleeful Malice 
Knowing the eternal seeds are planted that will spring Forth for a thousand ages 
This land will be our mother for we bring the eternal Power…in our blood 

The gods in our hearts where we march they go with us 
Proud are we who march in pagan lands 
In a time of purity before the wretched shameful face of he 
That infected the world with lies 

vile priest in the guise of a prophet whose draws unto him 
The weak to suckle at his poison 
And those who follow his lies [bad word] so infected with his Self importance 
That they spread his [bad word] in the name of a loving god 

And we who stand before them shall remain [bad word] until the sun wheel darkens 
For we few who are strong in conviction as mighty oaks we Stand in a storm 

Unshaken by their hatred for our hatred is stronger 
It thrives in the long forgotten black places of the earth 
The [bad word] cult of the earth, forceful and powerful, as all Consuming as the night 
war of annihilation shall be our reward 
And we are not afraid to stare into the face of oblivion 

From [bad word] heart I stab at thee