Christendom, religion of pity, God of the sick
We have discovered our way, we know the road
We have found the way out of millenia of labyrinth
Beyond the north, beyond the ice, beyond death
There was a thunderstorm in our air
The nature which we are grew dark
All that proceeds from weakness we loathe
We declare not peace but war
We shall be unleashed now
From darkness, we create light
Beware decaying humans
For we shall destroy
We are the way of millenniums to come
