We prospect the deepest seam,
Crawling in the blackest holes
Obsessed by the treasures
Of our holy ground

Our fruits are made of stone,
We extract from innermost
Our mountains bleed for us
And so we defend this pact with our blood

Walls of boundary from otherness
Isenburg

Shelter for the brave
Who fight for our home
Nightmare for those who presume
To stain this ground

Never surrender alive
Nor leave this ground to enemy
Often threatened by rats,
Originless bastards
Always had been defend
By swords of infernal rage
Times may passing by
But the sons of the pride years are still here
In arms we stand, reflecting the glorious days