Audioteca

Millions of fans follow their mark

created of a deep and darkest will

hate that come with all their fury

over the stupid humanity.

Forged in the darkest abyss

their music comes to storm our minds

they are the masters of the occultism

who guide us in the land.

Venom, Hellhammer, Bathory

they marked our lives forever

a strong troop of warriors,

inspiration of the hordes.

Influence of so much bands

we got the legacy of the Gods

always dressed in black

spreading destruction.

We look like
The sore that lingers on your skin

The stone in the shoe
That embeds
Itself
In your feet
The necrosis that slowly spreads  
Infesting
Whatever is in our path

We look like huge vessels
Empty and imperfect
That yearn to fill their interior
With a non-existent light
We have been banished from
The beginning by our origin
We were abandoned to our fate
And in spite of that
They point the finger at us and blame us
For the way things are

Hatred heats
The blood to the point that it rots it 
The mind is flooded with resentment
And revenge (X2)  

We are the heirs of the serpent’s gen

It is not possible
To blame those who were born in filth
They are marked as the origin
Of the darkness
But it is impossible
To remain blindfolded  
In the presence of truth
And knowledge
Questioning actions
And reasoning made us free
And that is why we are called
The children of darkness

Hatred heats
The blood to the point that it rots it 
The mind is flooded with resentment
And revenge (X2) 

We are the heirs of the serpent’s gen
Practitioners of the rituals of the fallen angels

Hatred heats
The blood to the point that it rots it 
The mind is flooded with resentment
And revenge (X3) 

Hiding the truth
Will only make us
More rebellious

And uneasy
Even if it costs
Us eternal contempt