Priest
Diseased
Poison in your mind
Try
To preach
Your sermon for the weak
While

Your lungs
Are crawling ‘round your spine
Regurgitate
When you are running past your peak

Horny
Monks
Clutching tightly ‘round their throats
Frivolous
Nuns
You better heed the call
Berserkers
Burning
The contents of your scrolls
Heathen
Beliefs
Still strong within us all

Blood
Red sky
An omen to respect
Night
To day
A monastery ablaze
Swords
Of death
A mission to protect
The heathen gods
Our pagan heritage

Blood of saints – crushing christianity
Dragonships, the scourge of the seven seas
Blood of saints – crushing christianity
Norsemen, the scourge of your belief
When the pagans desecrated the sanctuaries
Of God, and poured out the blood of saints

Around the altar, laid waste the house of our hope
Trampled on the bodies of saints in the temple of God
Like dung in the street. What can we say except
Lament in our soul with you before christ's altar
And say: “spare, o lord, spare thy people
And give not thine inheritance to the gentiles
Lest the pagan say, ‘where is the God of the christians?”