Shadows Of The Black Cross

Saturnarian, master and wielder
Of the bloody scythe
This work of malediction
This work will close all paths

A black coffin
Filled with murder's soil
Focusing motives
Causing wrathful frenzy
And conjuring the odor of hatred
Seven nails, charged with the poison of death
Glowing with magical will

Malicious intent drives nails through rolling meat
Candles are burning at cardinal points
Blood is poured from my chalice upon your makeshift grave

Bleeding to death
Stab wounds and whip marks
Inflict your soul
Lord of Death!

Saint of killers, be now by my side
And bless these death-dealers' rites
By the power of the shadows of the black cross
It is done!

Offerings are served
Prayers of smoke
Left hand extends over your grave
Invocation flattening the soil
Above thine enemies
Seven steps away
And leave without turning back

Seven steps away
And leave without turning back