And the dark lord found a place Ont he fields where none have returned Where all the twisted gods lie... There, where its obeisance feel in the oblivion Like our tears of pain wrath stricken on this path There, burning bleed my unholy war death Screaming ancient incantations... And when the obloquy defiles Thy obnoxious souls Its evil omen will be Dungeon and sore Perhaps very soon The gloominess shall draggle itself death Throughout those endless weepings Into the shades To wield the deepest scepter Prone upon woerot... Thy dark doom, black evil and death For woerot only Hail Death! Ave Dusk Woerot!! As I snear my dark blood Upon the wirdsword Throughout the gates Into the immortality tortured moon Thus the faithnized victims Of the lair of suffering Those who have imprisoned Their infernal torment By their own demise They will must inflict this doomed shrine Entangled in my sores And when all my screams Turn unheard to the death Maybe your blasphemy falls slowly On woerots scepter Buried inside the most dismal coffin Where the existence crawls its throe Under thorns, to lament this condemn Warriors of pain and darkness Hail Death Ave Dusk Woerot!!!
woerot, ave, scepter, death, sore