Praising the Impure

Deeply down in the valley of the Kings

among the neutral woods of the forsaken lands

A tenebrous spirit eternally dwells

seeking resurrection for the horde of torment.

Till the final calls, the legion of Undead

will keep their swords, fiery into the crypts

under the fullmoon light, onward to sacred path

bright ungodly flames exist in blackened souls.

Howling from darkness, summoning the nameless

reveals the hateful wrath unleashed upon mankind

nocturnal lullabies, praising the impure

the mystery of creation perished in the endless sky.