| Imago Mortis, ever since the applebite, deathened! | |
| The branches creep together, a chair with a cold back, | |
| ...Lux Rigor Mortis, Lux Rigor Mortis, Lux Rigor Mortis... | |
| Today king, tomorrow worms and cold in mouth, | |
| A reach for purity, through decay, through black soil excrements, | |
| None shall stand before the Lord of the Death-Winged Dart, | |
| Cold and hollow, silent yet piercing, | |
| Death fire trumpets, fresh traces from twelve-to-twelve, | |
| Pole to pole, infans to decrepitus | |
| Sunbleached shadow, useless corpse, | |
| Jesus loves you, useless corpse | |
| ...Lux Rigor Mortis, Lux Rigor Mortis, | |
| Lux Rigor Mortis, Cinis Ater et Ossa. | |
| Behold, one who moments ago, at the height of power, | |
| Received worship from kneeling crowd, | |
| Now himself cast down by death's dominion, | |
| Bears mute witness to the whole world's face: | |
| Cinis Ater et Ossa. | |
| Sack of maggots, maggotsack, | |
| Hopeless pile of hopeless bones, | |
| So this was His holy plan for you? | |
| Wings of dust, handful of nothing, | |
| Iron skies and streets of brass, | |
| Even the Whore, she loves us all! | |
| Imago Mortis, ever since the applebite, deathened! | |
| The branches creep together, a reach for purity, | |
| Through decay, through black soil excrements, | |
| All must kneel before the Lord of the Death-winged Dart, | |
| Imago Mortis, | |
| Wings of Dust, | |
| Handful of Nothing, | |
| Hopeless pile | |
| Of hopeless bones. |
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