Divine Race

Oh, son of mine, take this sword of mystery

Carry it over the land as fire

For I have plaited seven metals

Stardust and the emptiness of nothing into it

And the cities shall open their gates

And people shall fall on their knees before you

Oh, Demiurge, the creator, father of death and mother of life

You are the sun everything is rotting above, giving birth to a sweet foetus

You are light for the blind and god for the weakened

Your creation is death

And you, the Goatlord failed to win

And blew the fire into us, to take revenge on Demiurge

You are the lord of ancient cities

You are the morning of a black dawn

And life and death are alien to you

You hate in us the Demiurge's creation

You love us for we are your children

Your jar of fire

So lead us into the battle, to defeat death and Demiurge

Thus shall we become the third power in the universe

For we own the might of creation

And the dark stellar light

We are ye divine race