Texty: Rotting Christ. Sanctus Diavolos. Athanati Este (Áèáíáôïé åóôå).

:
Iaeaneie aooa ie
oieicnie
Iaeaneie aooa ie
aianoueie
Iaeaneie aooa ie
aeaoinaoeeie
Aiooio aieae
Iaeaneie aooa ie
eaoanaiaiie
Iaeaneie aooa ie
eoicaie
Aiuo iiaenio
?naaiaoeeie

Aeaiaoie aooa ie
aoiaoie
Aeaiaoie aooa ie
anicoeeie
Aeaiaoie aooa ie
onaaeeie
Ai oio aieae
Aeaiaoie aooa ie
niiaeie
Aeaiaoie aooa ie
oieicnie
Iaie?inie oui
aeoecoaui
?naaiaoeeie

And when the bells of fate sound
Digging your soul deep into the ground
Setting your sense to the bound
Spreading your eminence all around
And when the bells of fate sound
You walk in pathless ways till the dawn
Screaming for salvation so loud
Spreading your indulgence all around

And when the bells of fate sound
Then you immortals stand up and shout
Then you blessed martyrs doubt
Here comes a new age's blow

Slaves of fate instigate
And feel your sword's blazing edge
Your section to the enemy
Wound for the sleepy age
Slaves of fate instigate
And feel your sword's blazing edge
Your section to the enemy
Wound for the sleepy age