| The heavens break to cover us with shattered sky, | 
| Grasping ground with crooked claws, hateful serpentine, | 
| I’m winter see my heart split into a million shards, | 
| There is no freedom where I’m bound to the sound of your demise, | 
| Spites of fire march in rows, | 
| Bloody worriors, mother fury still it grows! | 
| And I die in depths of heartlessness, | 
| Thor! | 
| His hammer hit the ground, | 
| Destruction prey and fire dine! | 
| Bloody worriors churn the clouds | 
| Thunder thy unearthly cry, | 
| Dawn breaks open like a wound that bleeds afresh, | 
| In blackest misery the lifeless lie in squander, | 
| Insane you sleep falling deeper into farthest fear, | 
| Now your disease has worked its way through your fucking veins, | 
| Infernal suffering to the Nazarene, | 
| Thy rotten soul in darkness dwell in the mouth of hell, | 
| The worms are feeding on your lies within, you’re drown in sin, | 
| Born from the blind, feeble mind of the greatest whore! | 
| Open shrines the children of the Nile! | 
| When fountains of thy blood reach heavens, | 
| When you’re gone, mystic rites we’ll carry on, | 
| To explore into the shadows of thy scorn, | 
| Tranquilized, smite your foes that they may die! | 
| In the sun you’ll see the shape of things to come, | 
| When you’re gone, mystic rites we’ll carry on, | 
| To explore into the shadows of thy scorn, | 
| Dawn breaks open like a wound that bleeds afresh, | 
| In blackest misery the lifeless lie in squander, | 
| Insane you sleep falling deeper into farthest fear, | 
| Now your disease has worked its way through your fucking veins, | 
| Infernal suffering to the Nazarene, | 
| Thy rotten soul in darkness dwell in the mouth of hell, | 
| The worms are feeding on your lies within, you’re drown in sin, | 
| Born from the blind, feeble mind of the greatest whore! | 
| Open shrines the children of the Nile, | 
| When fountains of thy blood reach heavens, | 
| When you’re gone, mystic rites we’ll carry on, | 
| To explore into the shadows of thy scorn, | 
| Tranquilized, smite your foes that they may die! | 
| In the sun you’ll see the shape of things to come, | 
| When you’re gone, mystic rites we’ll carry on, | 
| When fountains of thy blood reach heavens, | 
| solo: Adam the First Sinner |