A pact of death was made on this night An urn filled with cemetery dirt The black templars spilling their blood in this soil Embracing the cold void of dedicating their souls to this pact To finalise such a union one cannot turn back All must have blood on their hands A soul of lost innocence with no home or kin Ravaged by the toxins of modern man An unfulfilled shattered vessel With dreams never to be realised Whom no one will miss is chosen... To finalise such a union one cannot turn back All must have blood on their hands Taken in the dead of the night The throat is severed and spills.. The life blood of this insignificant flows The bridge of the nose split through to the ivory bone Gouged and torn by the cult.. for the cult A bond in blood and a pact with death A new Satanic order is born
finalise, pact, blood, union, cult