Let us raise the songs of the moon And establish a rite for the equinox That the anthame run through the earth and unite to a circle of ceremony Let the blood expel over the chalice And create a moon of fog The sword raised and reflected over the powers from the moon Moon and splenddor of a black sun With our desires of Satanic magic Slowly embracing a black cosmos The evil is born again Let the December raise the moon, darkening our souls And reflecting the pentagram into our hearts In cold fields, throne is risen again I am the great forest Once again my eyes are open for blackened visions Slowly the mist embraces the night Let the anthame fall and open my gates Burning with the flames of a black funeral Risen by pentagram's faces Of ancient unholy rites Summoning the ancient wisdom of darkness