اصل بول
ENترجمہ ابھی دستیاب نہیں۔ اصل بول دکھائے جا رہے ہیں۔
An image of terror ascends from the deep,
Millions of souls screaming in pain,
Riding the winds to the lost kingdom.
My eyes are blinded, my thoughts are twisted.
Open the gates to your misery,
The clouds are black,
The storm is your fate.
Come to the rituals of senseless desires,
Playing the games of the end.
Feel the beatiful pain,
Smell the graceful flesh,
Taste the delightful blood,
Hear the desperate screams.
This is the anthem of the new world,
The pest is the lord in this lost kingdom. (bis)
