Summon thy hidden wisdom, gather the unholy hate
Winter is at hand, frozen my tears will be
Created by blasphemy
The edge of my sword, the powers of my mind

  Winter is at hand, as two torches blaze in the dark
A warrior dressed in black, granted eternal life
Black winds blow my hair, as the voice of the night
Whispers my name

  Blackened ground, mistly sound
Hear the call for war, the master calling his
Warriors to explore by the sign of the horns
As the dawn arisses the souls of a thousand
Young men shall go wild
As the fire sounds into the night the're sitting by
The campires awaiting the dawn

 
 The Forest is My Throne

  Through years of knowledge man made the wings of evil
Through the enormous winter, three years without summer
Prepared for the battles of the north

  I sat on my throne and watched between
The skies of a cold northern light
Knowing this was my ground, but those who turned their backs
Against my throne, only got my sword in their back!

  I rose from my throne and walked aay with the wind
Through centuries of weakness
Only the strong follow me, on my crusade of darkness
In this land where the orest is my throne
I have coome to re-hunt
 

 
 The Night of the Triumphator

  Come come infernal war awake beasts of hell
Free yourself from the chains that have been holding you
                for 666 years
We await sodomy and destruction

  It is the night of the triumphator
{start the burning of heaven}

  On this night in the pentagrams power we shoot the angels
                down from the sky

{and we} sodomize the dirty whores of babylon... on christian ground

  On this night we torture the betrayers

  Night night holy night of the triumphator

{rape the nuns  hang the priests  cut the throats of the crying christians}