For everything around me i experience is cold and dead   The blood of others is of a colder substance and taste   Therefore i must spill and serve   The blood that in me runs vibrant   In the frost of the dying min   D.S. of western society i recreate   It will be the resurrection   Of the brotherhood of holy death   In the year of the Holy Roman Empire   Of night times to come and last   The day of which i shall   Lay my sword upon your throats   Upon the mighty warriors   Of the land of northern regions   Upon the shores of our desolate coast within the waves   I can see the wreckage floating ashore of the dying culture   And so i greet those who still have eyes to observe and see   And who still have courage to break through into the dying light