The Dance of the Pagan Flames - Behemoth

Oh, cursed profanated thoughts of glory return to me

Receive my every fall, my every pain and misfortune

And wrath will born inside you

Stronger than sounds of bells

Primeval instincts will wake

Pagan brothers of our blood

Professing to the majesty of horned evil

The war we’ll begin

Will be the final fall of god’s flock

We’ll have a bloodbath and covered with gore

We’ll praise the name of the highest

What’s you fallen god for us

He had leaded people to eternal slavery

His angels falling into night like dead swans

To rise never again

Pagan around the wooden symbols

Transmitting the power from hands to hands

Blood for god of gods, king of kings

Unholy master