| Blood is running down my tiring hands
|
| Falling as pure red dew on the ground
|
| A pulse of drums fills the air
|
| Death is all around me
|
| Dea Tacita a grim companion
|
| For roman glory
|
| A deafening calm
|
| Is screaming «forward»
|
| And again we face the hordes
|
| Painted beasts — in boiling rage
|
| Deeply staring into the eyes of inevitable fate
|
| Hell’s unleashed in screams of agony
|
| When first I raised the tempest
|
| I call on Mars to guide us
|
| Nothing here, nothing else
|
| To save us from the storm
|
| Sacrifice the world and its
|
| Progress to salvation
|
| Quirites, sons of Rome
|
| Ruins of mankind must be overthrown
|
| This is the dawning tempest
|
| Now, I am becoming death
|
| A destroyer of worlds and
|
| A lost soul on a path through ruins
|
| Condemned to grow and cursed to follow
|
| Ten thousand men on my command
|
| Hordes of tribesmen wild and furious
|
| Painted beasts — rage amongst us
|
| Colliding worlds so fierce and cold
|
| A feast of flesh in the eyes of a crow
|
| And again we face the hordes
|
| Deeply staring into the eyes of fate
|
| A taste of doom sealed with blood
|
| Sacrificing the world to hate |