Terror is painted around
  Whispers and screams of pain
  Are hovering in the night.

  The high priests are prepearing
  This surifice must be done
  Full-moon is approaching
  Red virgin-blood will be spiled.

  Tou are prepearing for the great moment
  The unborn child is coming
  With the hordes of evil
  With absolute hate and obscure eyes.

  You're faithful servant
  He's the chosen one
  The silence cry drives you mad
  The whispers are drilling your mind.

  The mystic gathering from the faithful
  priest
  Waiting for the secret day
  It ain't going to be late
  Ruins and destruction turn around

  Your tears are rolling the black cloak
  The great celebration is beginning
  (The unborn child is coming)
  Look the sights of time