March of the walking Dead

Lords of darkness and of the kingdom of death
Of what is rotting and decaying
Hear my call and my blasphemous prayers
May the walking dead rise

In your name sacrifice has been done
Thousand times the sacred knife has struck
On your altar has been shed
Pure and innocent blood

I summon the old souls
Go back to your last resting place
Have your righteous revenge
On those whose the heart is beating
Leave your grave and your dusty burial vault
To walk in the sun

Open the gates

A freezing wind rise suddenly
As rustling and scratching surround me
Emaciated hands are pushing the soil
As stripped of flesh corpses free themself from the ground

Look at my sons
Hellfire burns deep in their sockets
Obcess by a necrophiliac and cannibalistic hunger Wriggling maggots rush in their veins

March of the walking dead

Boundless is the power of the necromancy
As will be the number of my swarm of undeads Soon I'll let them on the world
And the living will be my slaves

Limping and strumbling,
crawling and dragging themselve
They are slowly coming up to you
My mind has made them alive and starving
Ready to serve and desirous to kill
They will be the incarnation of my wrath
Sublime perverted souls

Walk, children of the nether regions
I free you from the chains of death
Follow me towards your first meal
To wallow in blood

Limping and strumbling,
crawling and dragging themselve
They are slowly surrounding you

The first creatures appear at the horizon
Groaning hideously

Limping and strumbling,
crawling and dragging themselve
They are slowly clutching at you

Atrocious and dreadfull monsters
Fiends escaped from hell

People try to flee from the repulsive cadavers
But the undeads are thousands
Smell of putrefaction fills the air
As cries of terror and of entreaty echoes

Victims are overrun and cut to shreds
As the ghouls devour their flesh
The smell of decay is gradually hidden
By the odour of fresh blood

Insane, greedy, gory saraband
What a pleasure and a delight
I summon the new souls
Stay in your slashed corpses
Have your righteous revenge
On those who didn't help you
Stop laying in your gore
And join all my sons

The gates are gaping
A freezing wind rise suddenly
As rustling and scratching surround me
Emaciated hands are pushing the soil
As stripped of flesh corpses free themself from the ground
Look at my sons Hellfire burns deep in their sockets Obcess by a necrophiliac and cannibalistic hunger Wriggling maggots rush in their veins

March of the walking

dead Boundless is the power of the necromancy As is the number of my swarm of undeads Now they walk on the world And the living are my slaves