Behemoth

The dance of the pagan slaves



Oh, cursed profanated thougths of glory return to me receive my every fall, my every pain and misfortune and wrath will born inside you stronger than sounds of bells primeval instincts will wake pagan brothers of our blood professing to the majesty of horned evil the war we'll begin will be the final fall of god's flock we'll have a bloodbath and covered with gore we'll praise the name of the highest what's you fallen god for us he had leaded people to eternal slavery his angels falling into night like dead swans to rise never again pagan around the wooden symbols transmitting the power from hands to hands blood for god of gods, king of kings unholy master