Collectors of the King

Rushing through the sky, hunting the horizon, hunting towards the end The eyes of a man suffers the rage of our infinite master Power and passion, hate and sins, raise your fires from the abyss within Fire sweeping the earth, ruining the soil, as the

The rites of black candles and death, the scent of blood and incense Through the smoke of the burning cauldron, I call upon Thee Him who absorbs the light, Mephisto, I pronounce your blasphemic name He who enjoys the stench of sulphur, Satan I demand

So pure the passions, overwhelming the shattered remains, all lost for the once so giving Searching further, far from the soil, there is nothing left, no light for the living Reaching out in hope, stretching out towards blackened skies Thunder huntin