Deep flows the stream   Beneath the hills of Occident   Dark as blood running through ages dim   From beginning Â'til the end   In caves and grottoes spied   Renounced, revered and scryed   By men with dolch and bell   Roma, Amor; the ill and well   For good spirits of Europe   Men come with staff and scepter alike   With Tafur hordes, on horses high   Paint the Devil on the wall   Paint it black and paint it tall   But as Montsegur endures   There will be your light   Oh Lucibel   And when we shall burn alive   With sulphur crowns shoot up the sky   Then we shall be your light   Oh Lucibel   Pale is the horse   Upon which sits merciful fate   Crimson the hooves   To trample fools beneath its gait   Heretics and warlocks   Their vernal equinox   Gods suffered not by Rome   Gods men know not   Gods men forgot   For good spirits of Europe   Men come with cudgel and claymore alike   With Tafur hordes, on horses high   And itÂ's not the life thatÂ's given   But the death thatÂ's taken   When all that weÂ're worth is vanguished   Damned and undone   The good spirits of Europe   Stand with Abraxas behind the sun   WeÂ'll burn in your fire, Lucibel   Burn through the night, Lucibel   Burn as the sun, Lucibel