| Song | Raise the Stakes |
| Artist | Impaled |
| Album | Mondo Medicale |
| 作曲 : McGrath, Sewage | |
| An aceldama littered with corpses, withered | |
| Cerebrum spills from heads hacked in twain | |
| Incarnadine shower across land scoured | |
| Quenching the sod, the blood of the slain | |
| Battles we've fought and conquests we've wrought | |
| In wholesale slaughter, embroiled | |
| Harvesting dead for our dinner spread | |
| To the victors, the fruit of the spoiled | |
| A quartet of gorelords, reigning in blood | |
| Sweetmeats are ablated in a sanguine flood | |
| Survivors of the melee are illaqueated | |
| Deigned as pabulation, impinguated | |
| Raise the stakes, leave them all impaled | |
| Flagitations have all failed | |
| Raise the stakes, leave them all impaled | |
| Tapered pikes piercing entrails | |
| Trodding down a path, beset on each side | |
| By the ganched and their horrisonant cries | |
| Astride cacuminated poles, they point the way | |
| To an arescent feast celebrating victory | |
| Heartily whiff a myriad of stenches | |
| Putrescine platters brought forth by wenches | |
| Cruor bullion, the soup du jour | |
| Into tankards, claret is poured | |
| Crapulous carousing, the de rigueur | |
| Dehiscent lungs bellow gargled parlance | |
| Supplying ambience | |
| Caitiff factions sullied our names | |
| Beseiging their lands, we staked our claims | |
| With their progeny dead and women caught | |
| Now the impaled shall rot | |
| Culled from a paladin's remains | |
| The redolant guts of peditastellus slain | |
| Culinary skills are put to the test | |
| For a seven corpse meal we can't wait to ingest | |
| From on high, the beleagured cry of suffering | |
| Stuck like pigs on acicular sticks, uncontrolled blubbering | |
| Atop gavelocks, punctured gralloch haemorrhage, therein | |
| Their final view of this motley crew eating finewed kin [solo: "Slow Death" by S.C. McGrath] | |
| Sean, rip off their flesh | |
| Ross, bring me a glass of blood | |
| Raul, prepare to make carcass stew | |
| Raise the stakes, leave them all impaled | |
| No body left unnassailed | |
| Raise the stakes, leave them all impaled | |
| These life times we have curtailed | |
| Gullets full of tripe harvested from foes | |
| Through haughty engorgement, their flesh we have disposed | |
| Skeletons lanced and left dangling in the air | |
| Of our wrathful scourge, a grave reminder |
| zuò qǔ : McGrath, Sewage | |
| An aceldama littered with corpses, withered | |
| Cerebrum spills from heads hacked in twain | |
| Incarnadine shower across land scoured | |
| Quenching the sod, the blood of the slain | |
| Battles we' ve fought and conquests we' ve wrought | |
| In wholesale slaughter, embroiled | |
| Harvesting dead for our dinner spread | |
| To the victors, the fruit of the spoiled | |
| A quartet of gorelords, reigning in blood | |
| Sweetmeats are ablated in a sanguine flood | |
| Survivors of the melee are illaqueated | |
| Deigned as pabulation, impinguated | |
| Raise the stakes, leave them all impaled | |
| Flagitations have all failed | |
| Raise the stakes, leave them all impaled | |
| Tapered pikes piercing entrails | |
| Trodding down a path, beset on each side | |
| By the ganched and their horrisonant cries | |
| Astride cacuminated poles, they point the way | |
| To an arescent feast celebrating victory | |
| Heartily whiff a myriad of stenches | |
| Putrescine platters brought forth by wenches | |
| Cruor bullion, the soup du jour | |
| Into tankards, claret is poured | |
| Crapulous carousing, the de rigueur | |
| Dehiscent lungs bellow gargled parlance | |
| Supplying ambience | |
| Caitiff factions sullied our names | |
| Beseiging their lands, we staked our claims | |
| With their progeny dead and women caught | |
| Now the impaled shall rot | |
| Culled from a paladin' s remains | |
| The redolant guts of peditastellus slain | |
| Culinary skills are put to the test | |
| For a seven corpse meal we can' t wait to ingest | |
| From on high, the beleagured cry of suffering | |
| Stuck like pigs on acicular sticks, uncontrolled blubbering | |
| Atop gavelocks, punctured gralloch haemorrhage, therein | |
| Their final view of this motley crew eating finewed kin solo: " Slow Death" by S. C. McGrath | |
| Sean, rip off their flesh | |
| Ross, bring me a glass of blood | |
| Raul, prepare to make carcass stew | |
| Raise the stakes, leave them all impaled | |
| No body left unnassailed | |
| Raise the stakes, leave them all impaled | |
| These life times we have curtailed | |
| Gullets full of tripe harvested from foes | |
| Through haughty engorgement, their flesh we have disposed | |
| Skeletons lanced and left dangling in the air | |
| Of our wrathful scourge, a grave reminder |