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The shadow of great darkness has fallen over the holy churches,
when we arrived in your lands with the black wing of Satan.
Now we strike your churches on fire. Laughing, we watch as the holy altars turn black
as the flames strike the image of Christ, burning it into oblivion forever.
When your pale tears roll down, we strike you to the ground.
We are rose up to war against the god of light.
You pitiful wretches who weep on your knees
digging for lost goodness from the ashes, you hope you will soon wake up from sleep.
But look for this is not a dream.
Feel how your raging church warms your ugly face.
In the emptiness of the night, the wind howls with the sound of wolves in the ruins of a burnt-out church.
Blowing into oblivion all the shame you once built.
And so it will be that once more the flames will rise.
Blacker and braver than ever.