Bring to me the one who sits
on the deck of the Gayomart.
Throw him at my feet,
the one that still dares to defy,
the one that doesn't understand that he's the creation
of his own king, or know
that his life is only a dream and a lie!
To the stink of rotting children,
to the meat between the teeth,
memories are confined to the wheel of torture,
to the decelerated time,
to the music of shattering bones,
to the voiceless choirs,
to the masks of the flayed,
to the hollows of blind eyes."
Search and destroy his only command,
the endless promise of pain,
the boundless will and might to do evil.
Above him lies only the silence of the universe,
the music of shattered bones,
the grim choirs of the dead,
the hollows of blind eyes,
the masks of the flayed.
As black from the night of cataracts
they rise singing the song of death,
the human-like shadow creatures,
the pale minions of the king.
They leave human regions barren,
the coldness goes before them.
Finally they find the one they seek
and he comes forth to embrace them.
As does our lord command
shall we start our journey.
Soon to the palace of the hunters
will our prey be brought.