Let us raise the songs of the moon
And establish a rite for the equinox
That the anthame run through the earth and unite
to a circle of ceremony
Let the blood expel over the chalice
And create a moon of fog
The sword raised and reflected over the powers from the moon
Moon and splenddor of a black sun
With our desires of Satanic magic
Slowly embracing a black cosmos
The evil is born again
Let the December raise the moon, darkening our souls
And reflecting the pentagram into our hearts
In cold fields, throne is risen again
I am the great forest
Once again my eyes are open for blackened visions
Slowly the mist embraces the night
Let the anthame fall and open my gates
Burning with the flames of a black funeral
Risen by pentagram's faces
Of ancient unholy rites
Summoning the ancient wisdom of darkness