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