I speak to those who dream Of touching death's terribly cold lips I speak to those who flirt with life Always suspicious and with the feeling That something is watching us in the cracks of reality I speak to those who make sacred what is impure And impure what is sacred I speak to those who dare to whisper The name of the ancient majesties of chaos I speak to those whose tireless philosophy of life Is to crush once-pure hearts with the incessant beating of nails I speak to those tormented living In the sensory nightmare I speak to those who fear The controller of human dreams I speak to those who wish to destroy The natural order of the astral plane You are guided into the den of loathing and emptiness with a mind paralyzed in funereal ecstasy Fear lights your way, but at the arcane vision every atom in your body collapses Glimpse the splendor of your majesty death It who spits the poison of self-denial into the wounds of the righteous Life, dignity and honor annihilated with cosmic stars as witnesses The tragic gleam of your eyes, now gives way to complete bitterness