| 作词 : Quorthon | |
| System the crocked cross | |
| the code yellow star | |
| machinery of death will grind | |
| the trains keep on rolling | |
| both nearby and far | |
| the cargo is of Abrahams kind | |
| Gasping for air | |
| in the stench and the heat | |
| losing track of the number of days | |
| only the cramped space | |
| keeps people afeet | |
| while all hope vanishes like a haze | |
| All comes to hault | |
| and the doors slam wide open | |
| then all are called out on the ground | |
| a sweet sour smell | |
| fills all lungs on the platform | |
| the roar of the death machine sounds | |
| Phallos of death | |
| giant chimneys arise | |
| spewing ashes and fire way high | |
| the disciplin of racial purity | |
| the code by which you all | |
| ****in' must die | |
| Distinguish to Kill | |
| Distinguish to Kill | |
| Shiny black leather boots | |
| peaked caps in grey | |
| sporting the deaths head mean grin | |
| yellow star patch | |
| and pink triangle displayed | |
| numbers inked into bear skin | |
| Rows of barbed wire | |
| high voltaged in miles | |
| ensurance to kill all last hope | |
| the only way out of this hell is to go | |
| through the chimney | |
| like thick burning smoke | |
| Burning the bodies | |
| the owens glow white | |
| as the heat cracks the skulls open wide | |
| bodily human fluids joins the melted fat | |
| running down the collecting pipes | |
| Now grinding the piles | |
| of burned bones to powder | |
| the system perfected and complete | |
| all to attain and remain in purity racialy | |
| the wheels turn in deaths industry |
| zuo ci : Quorthon | |
| System the crocked cross | |
| the code yellow star | |
| machinery of death will grind | |
| the trains keep on rolling | |
| both nearby and far | |
| the cargo is of Abrahams kind | |
| Gasping for air | |
| in the stench and the heat | |
| losing track of the number of days | |
| only the cramped space | |
| keeps people afeet | |
| while all hope vanishes like a haze | |
| All comes to hault | |
| and the doors slam wide open | |
| then all are called out on the ground | |
| a sweet sour smell | |
| fills all lungs on the platform | |
| the roar of the death machine sounds | |
| Phallos of death | |
| giant chimneys arise | |
| spewing ashes and fire way high | |
| the disciplin of racial purity | |
| the code by which you all | |
| in' must die | |
| Distinguish to Kill | |
| Distinguish to Kill | |
| Shiny black leather boots | |
| peaked caps in grey | |
| sporting the deaths head mean grin | |
| yellow star patch | |
| and pink triangle displayed | |
| numbers inked into bear skin | |
| Rows of barbed wire | |
| high voltaged in miles | |
| ensurance to kill all last hope | |
| the only way out of this hell is to go | |
| through the chimney | |
| like thick burning smoke | |
| Burning the bodies | |
| the owens glow white | |
| as the heat cracks the skulls open wide | |
| bodily human fluids joins the melted fat | |
| running down the collecting pipes | |
| Now grinding the piles | |
| of burned bones to powder | |
| the system perfected and complete | |
| all to attain and remain in purity racialy | |
| the wheels turn in deaths industry |
| zuò cí : Quorthon | |
| System the crocked cross | |
| the code yellow star | |
| machinery of death will grind | |
| the trains keep on rolling | |
| both nearby and far | |
| the cargo is of Abrahams kind | |
| Gasping for air | |
| in the stench and the heat | |
| losing track of the number of days | |
| only the cramped space | |
| keeps people afeet | |
| while all hope vanishes like a haze | |
| All comes to hault | |
| and the doors slam wide open | |
| then all are called out on the ground | |
| a sweet sour smell | |
| fills all lungs on the platform | |
| the roar of the death machine sounds | |
| Phallos of death | |
| giant chimneys arise | |
| spewing ashes and fire way high | |
| the disciplin of racial purity | |
| the code by which you all | |
| in' must die | |
| Distinguish to Kill | |
| Distinguish to Kill | |
| Shiny black leather boots | |
| peaked caps in grey | |
| sporting the deaths head mean grin | |
| yellow star patch | |
| and pink triangle displayed | |
| numbers inked into bear skin | |
| Rows of barbed wire | |
| high voltaged in miles | |
| ensurance to kill all last hope | |
| the only way out of this hell is to go | |
| through the chimney | |
| like thick burning smoke | |
| Burning the bodies | |
| the owens glow white | |
| as the heat cracks the skulls open wide | |
| bodily human fluids joins the melted fat | |
| running down the collecting pipes | |
| Now grinding the piles | |
| of burned bones to powder | |
| the system perfected and complete | |
| all to attain and remain in purity racialy | |
| the wheels turn in deaths industry |
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