Given a gift of darkness, our coven embraces the heritage  Practising forgotten arts, bloodline is the rite of passage    Burning can not erase our kin  Blessed be the patriots of sin    Terrorized, victimized  The taking of our mortal lives  Changes nothing    Touched by devilish desire, demonized by authority  The flesh may burn but our spirits are marked by eternity    Our essence is beyond the ashen skin  Blessed be the patriots of sin    Forbidden knowledge runs in our veins  Risking the stake, mentally or physically  We are the unknown, the chaos breed  Shattering the false, spitting at stagnation  (so be it, patriots we are, patriots of sin)    At night we speak to the dead, we sing praise to the moon  Burning candles and herbs  Mixing oak, ash and thorn, forming the sign of the horns  As it is and must be    Among the masses we walk, revealed only by our eyes  Burning fiercer, stronger than the common man`s    Nothing is stronger than the flames within  Blessed be the patriots of sin  Blessed be the patriots of sin  Blessed be.