Texty: Naumachia. Wrathorn. Cyberian Dance.

Black red eys
The dark pours out from the scars
With his invitation to the bloodthirsty dance
The psychoclown shievers in the delirious trance

Everything that belongs to you - dead
All things that you have - bad

The machine behind you tries to cut off your head
The flames of agnnazazar aim to shot you dead.
You haven' t escaped and stayed to fight
What do you recon? Who will be the winner tonight?

You take up your sword and start to fight.
Slaying the losers- you strenghtended your might!
Call on your brothers to help you survive' hance
You' ve got onto the track of terminator' s dance.

When the right time comes, on mighty my sing,
Follow me to chase enemies: mine and thine
Pay evil for evil, give no one a chance.
As the psychoclown didn' t in his cyberian dance.

The scriming laughter comes from the coffin' s creak,
The terminator' s black mouth releases the army of the sick.
You- the last man on earth! Dripping with blood, reeking of
Putrefaction
Watch out for the sing if you wanna be the soldier of
Destruction ! ! !