The moon   lets proudly glisten the warpaint   and spikes   the knights   they stand   over there   watching in the dark   are fearless   while they think   That could be   the last beautiful night.      Be willing to die and to kill   the swords, axes and shields   are shining dreadful in the moonlight   then they raise their fists and scream   their warcry      Furor Teutonicus      The horde blows the enemies   the swords are drilled into the bastard´s bodies   axes chop off and split their heads   the battle was won      The battlefield   was a sea of blood and pain