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