Born unto a bastard nation,
The dying remnants of our breed
Aura's of,an ancient past,
Of those that knew so long before

But time goes on
Misanthropic breed,
Engulf our suffering,
Food for the strong

To overcome is the way of the warrior,
Regret not that which we have done,
Regret that which we have not

Blackness in our pride,
Cast the event o'er again
Let thy wisdom be thy guide,
Let thy will be thy gain
And feed

Gluttonous rapture
The sword so bravely held,
Marked with the blood of death (the certainty of life)

Time,the foe of all whom would'st not taste
Let mine will be fulfilled,
Let the rest go to waste

Let the blood run
At war with the race (of humanity)

[Lyrics-Greg,June 1995]
[Music-Simon, Winter 1995]