Black become the suns beam in the days That will come It is harsh in the world Whoredom rife When my ancestors calling To fight and die I will paint with grimson gore The caves of lies With courage of the forefarthers Flaming pride Towards the golden halls of might Be my guide I greet the gods of heathen soul The sons of day I greet the night and her daugthers Pagan's my pray And when my soul flies higher And I lay Let thunder roar and lightning strikes On that day