Moments so rare
Moments so precious
Far beyond the self
Beyond all commonplaceness
A microcosm of horror
A stronghold of blackness
Frostbitten heart and wolfish hunger
Misanthropy, the old-fashioned way
Far from the future
Far from now
Far from all the scum
Close to the woods
Close to the dark
Close to the ancient black metal
Closer, closer to the edge
The funeral wind starts to blow
The mundane reason is put to sleep
So let the churches burn
Southern fire on wintеr days
And northern coldness on summer nights
I see thе visions of the past
And death's fingerprints on my whisky glass
Days of cathartic solitude
I visit seven churches
I raise the flag of hate
I listen to morbid tales
Welcome to hell
I know that hell awaits me
I see blood, fire, death
In the sign of evil
I don’t break the oath
Blood upon the altar
All the witches dance
Scarlet evil witching black
I know the statues are watching
With Transylvanian hunger
I follow the freezing moon
And I can hear Carpathian wolves