Drowning in those waves of smoke 

Which summits stand out like living roots 

I feel them seizing me, wrapping me up, devouring me. 



Here. They come, on and on, 

like plants born of satanic seeds 



Cultivated in the Pandemonium, 

They're going through the ground as if it did not exist, 

Sprayed with innocent blood, 

They proliferate in the void of subconscious. 



As some of us are still resisting 

Your strategy changes and liquefying, 

You blend in with the red fluid, 

Destroying our senses, creating new ones, unknown and 

scaring, 



Taking us further 

On until we give in 

The ranks of the ancients 

Decrease while those of The novices swell 

Perpetuating 

The truest forbidden 

Tradition in your name. 



Blanche fum?e envo?tante, 

Que nos id?es pourrissent par ton pouvoir intense 

Combattue par la horde d?risoire des vengeurs de nos 

?mes d?sincarn?es.