Hear the chant of my tormented soul
In black devotion I have prayed
Veins re-opened, bleeding for Satan
With pride my flesh is cut

Sanctissime colere chaos
Obscurities unveil to me- a Disciple
Sanctissime colere chaos
Mortuus pontifex

In worship I rape humanity
Idolizing the torment with scars
I burn His sign into my heart
Preces infandus- possess me

I am the sick and devoted fanatic
My appearance is foul
In your fear you will avoid hurting me
Even in my name I carry rotting omens

Sanctissime colere chaos
Obscurities unveil to me- a Disciple
Sanctissime colere chaos
Mortuus pontifex

This morbid night melancholy
Moon of funeral broods
Mist rising from the swamps
Where superstitions are alive
Frogs and crickets please me
Though not long will my ears hear
Not long will I howl at the moon
The end already creeps on my tongue
Between old suffering trees
I still see that which reminded me
Of a time sorrow had reigned

With hope crushed underneath
A regent to the throne of black memory
Lost, forgotten and waiting for Hell
Asking why I left at all
Where are my weapons and dreams

There is no death to save me
I have never lived
Obire Pestis
Morbid night melancholy

I stand alone
Waiting for my thoughts
Alone among
Shattered visions, waiting
Eternally, watching:

Depressed they attempt mockery
Failure. Ceasing of heartbeats
End of pointless days
Thoughts infiltrate the voids
Of oblivion

Hollow joy, artificial happiness
Broadcasted daily, and pitifully
Raising futile fists

Darkness marauds
The excruciating populations
Perplexingly shallow
Appears abstract through eyes

Familiar to none else
Satan reaches deep within
My brain is shrouded in lava
Piercing and burning
Searing my past

On this night of a depressive autumn
Under branches of these old trees
On this hour thy sign I glorify
Black flame of Satan in my heart
Fog is rising from the murky waters
Carrying the stench of the swamp
An owl is hooting, sounding afar
As melancholy takes a grip

I drink the blood of a virgin child
From an old golden flask
In my mind the Countess of Cachtice
And the memory of terror she spread
Bitter words utter from my lips
Incantations of reincarnation
With the blood thy sign I glorify
Waking instincts of a wolf

I am finding strength in the hate
Misanthropic burning wounds
As much as I hate the human pigs
So I hate the flesh of my own

So many names have been given to me
For what the humans fear is versatile
I was born under the yoke of Evil
An armoured fist of Satan

Yes, fear me in the howls of wolves
Fear me in the pale moon itself
Where my presence is near
Your soul will coil with ulcers
Like a cancer of hate and Evil
I will reach for the universe
Infecting every church with darkness
Ceremony echoes to me

In my devotion I am His weapon
Pointed at your feebleness
Throats I slit and drink the blood
From a chalice made of a skull
Beat the drums of a satanic march
With the human bones
Let be heard even in the wind
Satan is too strong
You will stand but a little chance
Face the death eternal
Spilling blood of the holy martyrs

Glory of the sacred war
In my devotion I am his prophet
Slashing curses on the skin
Taste the poetry of my tormented skin
It's the last thing you'll know

For me its natural to feel
Nothing but hate and contempt
Surrounded by humans
Pathetic and weak
They have blindfolded my heart
With ugly flesh and faith
In my soul the black worms nest
Soon to cocoon, to born as bats as Satan

Black fucking murder
Ejaculation of death
Black fucking murder
Burning lead my breath

You buried me ages ago
Yet too soon for you I was awake
The plague and scourge of mankind
The black prophet of death
Where I walk I wish you Hell
In my appearance, words and my deeds
I put the zenith to its limit
Ride the carnage of souls
Hear the sermon of worship in black
I write and claim in priests' blood
I have sinned to be the betrayer
Judas of year two thousand and two

Tears wet the coffin dust
Mourning stains the wooden lid
Through the sadness and depression
I awake in the stone cold grave
Weird glow in the vault around me

A sense of freezing atmosphere
A coffin spirit of past remembrance
Howling at the moon in my memories
All around the cobwebs are silent
Even spiders have died so long ago
Void of life in hear is so definite
I exist but not to live again

In my death the omens were profound
Tongues that uttered curse and doom
Born under the Master's spell
Hungry for the warmth that I would spit on
Tears wet the coffin dust
Mourning stains the wooden lid
Through the sadness and depression
I awake in the stone cold grave
There is no life, no humanity
Nothing to keep me from suffering
Nothing to feed my burning soul with
Nothing to spill my hate upon

I hate the moon and its glow
For it no longer pleases me
I curse the winter and its snow
For it will lead "them" to me
Returning to the Darkness
Of the mountain caves
Following the voice of the past
When sky is obscured with clouds

Even starlight seems miserable
Fragile memories hurt my mind
Into everlasting misanthropy
Cold and depressive
One with the old dead forest

Before I leave this place
Nothing left to comfort me
But the cold touch of steel