The bloody wrathful moon

Stares down upon the earth

From behind the dark clouds

The moon's ray - the sky's curse

Invades the temple

Christian flock subjected to lies

Insulted the land of our fathers

By destruction of the sacred places we hold dear

But we will not surrender that land

Where our ancestors once dwelt

And our sword of war was raised

The battle is our deal of honour

And what of the rusting swords

Rusting in rotten blood spilt from the popes

Our smiths will forge

New swords from pain and evil

And let wounds bleed

Fire burn and hearts break

Bitter tears will wash wounds clean

Inspiring the brave and evil spirit

We will fight for the end

Deal the final blow

Until we meet the enemy

Until the bloodied blade rests in our hand