Rise, my brethren,
behold the blood red sky
Gathering our army
Our enemies shall cry

Havoc to their families
No help at hand
Desecrated holy ground
Their angels cannot land

-refr-

Feathered wings on fire
We'll crush all old belief
We'll march onto our victory
Their faces full of grief

Churches burnt till blackness
Laughing at them all
Priests, crucifiction...
No salvation there at all

-refr-

-REFREIN:-
We shall cleanse the land from prophets and priests
We'll give 'blessed' another meaning
Death and slaughter among them god-fearing beasts
They'll be dead, no longer dreaming