Оригинален текст
In the Gothic splendor of
The chapel of Saint Menceslaus.
Golden door with seven locks,
Seven keys within your hand.
Ancient crown of Bohemia
Placed upon your head.
Sharpening your spears.
The hangman's disciples, vomiting forth death
Murderous power, radiate hate,
Harbinger of suffering.
The malignance of malevolence
Rises beyond benevolence
Smite your foes that they may die,
Splattering blood across the sky.
Architect of genocide
In death taking pride.
The shape of things to come.
The shape of things to come.
The shape of things to come.
The shape of things to come.
Thousand-eyed Angel of Death
Armed with flaming sword.
Spread your wings, let the killing begin.
The hunter becomes the hunted.
Hangmen also die.
Morning red, morning red
Shines us to soon be dead.
Retaliating from beyond.
Killing, blood spilling,
Made through carnage.
Seas of blood, seas of blood.
Morning red, seas of blood.
In the Gothic splendor of
The chapel of Saint Menceslaus.
Golden door with seven locks,
Seven keys within your hand.
Smite your foes that they may die,
Splattering blood across the sky.
Architect of genocide
In death taking pride.
The shape of things to come.
The shape of things to come.
The shape of things to come.
The shape of things to come.
Hangmen also die.
Morning red, morning red
Shines us to soon be dead.
Retaliating from beyond.
Killing, blood spilling,
Made through carnage.
Seas of blood, seas of blood.
Seas of blood, seas of blood.