The Dark Age of Militant Paganism

Murder the weak, dispose of the dead
No need to scorn over their severed heads
Sword in my hand, axe on my side
There's only one end in the dead Christian's eyes

Unholy light, wherever I walk
Bound to this land, and boundaries unseen
Free from the cure of the sub human rule
For I call upon the God's who's fate is
Bound to mine

When the fallen arise
We will forever lay at Odin's side
To the God's
Lеt us burn for you!

Murder the weak, disposе of the dead
No need to scorn over their severed heads
Sword in my hand, axe on my side
There's only one end in the dead Christian's eyes

Unholy light, wherever I walk
Bound to this land, and boundaries unseen
Free from the cure of the sub human rule
For I call upon the God's who's fate is
Bound to mine