| Song | Of Darkness Spawned |
| Artist | The Black Dahlia Murder |
| Album | Nocturnal |
| 作曲 : Black Dahlia Murder ... | |
| Pretenders to the throne kneel before him | |
| Appalling wretched demon king | |
| Praise be to us his children | |
| Spawns of evils reckoning | |
| Doomed from the inception | |
| Claiming fire as our home | |
| Licked by flames our steel grows | |
| Stronger to be honed in hate forevermore | |
| A hellish scorn quickly approaches violent climax | |
| Infernal legions the time nears when we'll strike | |
| Shadows serving to enshroud us | |
| Our blackened hearts | |
| Those forgotten looming just beyond their sight | |
| The blood of pariahs through our veins | |
| Sin and hell our mainstay | |
| Forever to remain | |
| O to ye wicked ones | |
| And o to blood a reapers song | |
| Demons born of mans sickest desire | |
| Those of the darkness spawned | |
| Fires of hell I stoke thee high | |
| Through the open gates ever so wide | |
| Bury me in sin | |
| The daggers have been raised | |
| Now lets begin | |
| The margins of sanity blur into night | |
| As one will move beyond the light | |
| Murder effortlessly | |
| Without a tear | |
| Our motives to them never clear | |
| Damn this liars world | |
| We are the truth you've all awaited | |
| Impaling holy fallacy | |
| The filthy blood of Christian seed | |
| Akin to the looming serpent | |
| We've patiently anticipated | |
| The time | |
| To rise | |
| Is upon us | |
| My lord I kneel before you now paint me bloody red | |
| Bathing in blasphemy I beat the path that's traveled less | |
| The forgotten your minions our souls of black | |
| We are thousands in the darkness waiting to attack | |
| Infernal legions their heads shall be your prize | |
| Trophies to our dominions of conquests only fantasized | |
| O to ye wicked ones | |
| And o to blood a reapers song | |
| Demons born of mans sickest desire | |
| Those of the darkness spawned | |
| Fires of hell I stoke thee high | |
| Through the open gates ever so wide | |
| Bury me in sin | |
| The daggers have been raised | |
| O the dance of death she's a sweet one | |
| To victory we will drink |
| zuò qǔ : Black Dahlia Murder ... | |
| Pretenders to the throne kneel before him | |
| Appalling wretched demon king | |
| Praise be to us his children | |
| Spawns of evils reckoning | |
| Doomed from the inception | |
| Claiming fire as our home | |
| Licked by flames our steel grows | |
| Stronger to be honed in hate forevermore | |
| A hellish scorn quickly approaches violent climax | |
| Infernal legions the time nears when we' ll strike | |
| Shadows serving to enshroud us | |
| Our blackened hearts | |
| Those forgotten looming just beyond their sight | |
| The blood of pariahs through our veins | |
| Sin and hell our mainstay | |
| Forever to remain | |
| O to ye wicked ones | |
| And o to blood a reapers song | |
| Demons born of mans sickest desire | |
| Those of the darkness spawned | |
| Fires of hell I stoke thee high | |
| Through the open gates ever so wide | |
| Bury me in sin | |
| The daggers have been raised | |
| Now lets begin | |
| The margins of sanity blur into night | |
| As one will move beyond the light | |
| Murder effortlessly | |
| Without a tear | |
| Our motives to them never clear | |
| Damn this liars world | |
| We are the truth you' ve all awaited | |
| Impaling holy fallacy | |
| The filthy blood of Christian seed | |
| Akin to the looming serpent | |
| We' ve patiently anticipated | |
| The time | |
| To rise | |
| Is upon us | |
| My lord I kneel before you now paint me bloody red | |
| Bathing in blasphemy I beat the path that' s traveled less | |
| The forgotten your minions our souls of black | |
| We are thousands in the darkness waiting to attack | |
| Infernal legions their heads shall be your prize | |
| Trophies to our dominions of conquests only fantasized | |
| O to ye wicked ones | |
| And o to blood a reapers song | |
| Demons born of mans sickest desire | |
| Those of the darkness spawned | |
| Fires of hell I stoke thee high | |
| Through the open gates ever so wide | |
| Bury me in sin | |
| The daggers have been raised | |
| O the dance of death she' s a sweet one | |
| To victory we will drink |