He is the horned Moon, the Serpent’s morning star
Flawless destruction, with cold obsidian eyes
Carrying secrets from times beyond so far
His brutal hands the instruments of vice

In his gaze lies the abyss that calls
A void of screams and pain, of death and glory
And I see that soon he will reclaim
The cult of the black shamans, now God’s era falls

In the ancient ruins, the shadows coil and whisper
Watching and waiting for their king to come
The sacrificial fire burning in the stones
To turn Jehovah’s children into ash and bones

And I see the southern legions awaiting
The revival of the cult of Guahaihoque
The lamb of Christ will bleed on his altar
While the ancient tribe lights the fire