Ragnarok

Kneel down from the whispers of the demon
Within the flames searching deeper in this force, incense of madness and lust
Drawn, so close, to the gates, your streaming possessively shivers
Overwhelming your senses, you're suffering the teeth clinching rage
Born of demon, fear
Revile for me the lusts, fall for the gates of Satan
For the man, there has never been nothing
Still bowing through the winds of dust
Forever in time shall their knees face the flames
Awaiting the collectors of the king