At the womb of the stone torches crouch for shelter Shaped clouds from glimmering lands Have been reaching out too far Here ache for an intimate saviour Catch a carrion moon, hear a grieving sun And a grim warning not to leave the village When the polar night falls... Sought a golden view from the white roof of earth No safer triumph, no holier supper Clawed his soul, began to eat his frozen heart Perish in polar hiss hysteria! Red rises the haze between teeth It has thus been sincе ages Yet the chants havе lost all tragedy Many have come to be slain upon the alter of ice Many that imagined footprints of God While the noise may throw wires and sever heads These wombs had never given him birth To raise sword against the void that feeds Is a sign of a savage trance And a hissing trance is wherein he remains He who is drained of pure red Polar Hiss Hysteria!