Reaping Death Watain

There is a place beyond the dreamworlds
Past the womb of night
Lying in wait beyond the barriers of light
Shunned by the living, cursed by the dead
Here's no peace, here's no peace

None within, none without
Skinned bare by daggers that never doubt
Timeless in wisdom, unbound in might
Holy Evil!

By trembling hands concealed
Yet by fearless ones revealed

There the blood of Abel impregnates the soil
In which hungry darkness dwells and serpents coil
So that plants may rise to bear the strangest fruit
For all of ye that hunger

Higher! Higher! Come on you sons of fire!
Daughters of the black moon
Practitioners of arts most dire

Dance! Dance! In twisting, white-eyed trance
Let us praise the flowering darkness