Hecatomb

To the raven flying to shadow the sun,

To the pestilence spreading all over the land,

To the daemons beginning the hunt,

To the war hounds leaving the den,

To the avid god rejoicing in our blood,

To the skies that stand aloof,

To the wolf that howls tearing silence apart,

To the echo mocking at him from afar,

To the vulture hurrying not to miss the feast,

To the distant moon watching the slaughter, pleased...

To the tide rising to wipe out the scars

And the tears already spilt,

To the Reaper preparing his scythe

For the harvest on the battlefield –

Hecatomb!

(Praise the massacre!)

Rule of the Force,

Hate-driven delirious hordes –

He who stands the last

Takes the hollow Earth...

Hecatomb –

A bargain with Death.

Hecatomb –

A blood-signed pact.

Hecatomb!

Who cares a straw,

When your life's at stake

For someone's sake?

When the die is cast,

And hate becomes a must,

When self-identity

Is turning into dust,

When future leaves no past

And no way to flee

For humanity,

That will be sacrificed –

To the vanity having shadowed the sun,

To atrocity devastating the land,

To the gods of war enjoying the hunt...

They will have it all – you will meet the end.