off the sinister heavens I strip the arc of moon

the cosmic sickle starts the deicidial harvest

I am the wheel of fortune that grinds your chest

the fruit of the storm and the kingdom belongs to me

the time has come, your time, my father



this is my fate

to raise my hand

against the silver temples

that is my fate

to set up new order

the castle of clouds shakes

this is my fate

to get the sword

and paint the mountains red



the crescent of moon ploughs his breast

cry, cry all spirits, the old one is dead



drops of his blood whirling around

changing their colours, altering shapes

his purple juices transform into angels

hosts of lust, Dionysiac tribe



regicide sword, bull-horned god

brother of all spirits,

lead your troops, lead us to Earth,

feed us with flesh

feed me with flesh

teach me substance



lightnings, thunders...



he is not dead

he regains his strength

spears of royal curse

bullets of royal wrath

lightnings, thunders chase us

... but we'll be back

... some day