| The rising of our tribe |
|---|
| I sent black birds to the sky |
| I set a sign for my hate |
| To darken the day |
| To beat back the light |
| Winds storm above this wasteland |
| A first flickering of rage |
| Dark clouds keep me sheltered |
| Don’t move before moonrise |
| Don’t move before moonrise |
| We gather in the name of our pagan ancestors |
| The teutonic spirit burns in our hearts |
| What once was ours will be taken back |
| Rising our tribe like the upcoming winter-age |
| Upcoming winter-age |
