Oh, son of mine, take this sword of mystery, Carry it over the land as fire, For I have plaited seven metals, Stardust and the emptiness of nothing into it. And the cities shall open their gates, And people shall fall on their knees before you. Oh, Demiurge, the creator, father of d**h and mother of life. You are the sun everything is rotting above, giving birth to a sweet foetus. You are light for the blind and god for the weakened, Your creation is d**h. And you, the Goatlord failed to win And blew the fire into us, to take revenge on Demiurge. You are the lord of ancient cities, You are the morning of a black dawn, And life and d**h are alien to you. You hate in us the Demiurge's creation, You love us for we are your children, Your jar of fire. So lead us into the battle, to defeat d**h and Demiurge. Thus shall we become the third power in the universe, For we own the might of creation And the dark stellar light. We are ye divine race.