اصل بول
ENترجمہ ابھی دستیاب نہیں۔ اصل بول دکھائے جا رہے ہیں۔
In millenniums of centuries. On wings they spawned the true,
The witches of dathomir turned nightsisters of pure doom,
Born from the world of darkness, where a claw of noir amythst glooms,
Upon the crown of ocheron she'll cast a spell unto you,
So gaze upon the soul you had no pity she grants to fools,
She wants to feed on the blood you have
Until it drains you to a diluted blue. The carnal lust of man lies dead,
Semen and blood spawn in her womb
As one thousand wolves gather around awaiting a kingdom to rule.
Fierce is my storm, leads you in war,
I'll honour you all and cover you in my blood,
Fire I call burns you fucking all,
As ocheron takes all of your souls.
