Lyrics:
Within the darkest hourWhen the dragon releases its powerThey feel the urge to meetTo share and to intertwineBeneath the leader of the hordeMen and demons are swornTo kill and grant his graceThey are reflections of the Master's faceThe night is young and freshWith a scent of macabre on its breathScattered they form a patternTo be seen from the skyIf crimson was your colourCould your conscience bear your soulWould you paint the space with murderYour spirit's breath so coolThey are cowards falling from their own graceInfiltrating penetrating with hateRounding up marching into the wombCatatonic spending time in sin