Wings, graceful, angelic, outstretched
Ignite and ensue the first angel
As the foul, false guide he was
Spirals to the ground in a burning heap
Of smouldering hope
The gates of eternal bliss instantly rust
As the smell of sulphur rise
The first cult summoned
By those of shadows rush forward
Black magic protects us
Under the sign of the pentagram
We march
Burning all, rape and ruin
Angels impaled on stakes of bone
Their screams echoing through God's land