The bloody wrathful moon  Stares down upon the earth  From behind the dark clouds  The moon's ray - the sky's curse    Invades the temple  Christian flock subjected to lies  Insulted the land of our fathers  By destruction of the sacred places we hold dear    But we will not surrender that land  Where our ancestors once dwelt  And our sword of war was raised  The battle is our deal of honour    And what of the rusting swords  Rusting in rotten blood spilt from the popes  Our smiths will forge  New swords from pain and evil    And let wounds bleed  Fire burn and hearts break  Bitter tears will wash wounds clean  Inspiring the brave and evil spirit    We will fight for the end  Deal the final blow  Until we meet the enemy  Until the bloodied blade rests in our hand