Burnt is the landscape

I stand proud and behold this

Their churches have been burnt

Sick and perverted desecrations have been done

Their regime has ended

It is time for the northern heritage to return

It will create a dark and violent age

Where no Christian life shall be spared

I find myself in a puddle of blood

Knowing it was an illusion

As I drop lifeless to the floor

Follow my footprints of blood

Leave everything behind you

And step into my reality

Where no happiness is found

Feel the wind torment your skin

Feel the sun burn your skin and turn to stone

Feel my razorblades tongue

And cut yourself deep and desirably

Let the blood run in an overflowing stream

And submit to my suicide and yours

Nothing but death in this life is certain

You may be in some state of happiness

But none of this will stay real

You are trapped in a spider's web

You might as well just kill yourself