Pact Of The Black Templars

A pact of death was made on this night

An urn filled with cemetery dirt

The black templars spilling their blood in this soil

Embracing the cold void of dedicating their souls to this pact

To finalise such a union one cannot turn back

All must have blood on their hands

A soul of lost innocence with no home or kin

Ravaged by the toxins of modern man

An unfulfilled shattered vessel

With dreams never to be realised

Whom no one will miss is chosen...

To finalise such a union one cannot turn back

All must have blood on their hands

Taken in the dead of the night

The throat is severed and spills...

The life blood of this insignificant flows

The bridge of the nose split through to the ivory bone

Gouged and torn by the cult... for the cult

A bond in blood and a pact with death

A new Satanic order is born