Emotionless, rotten to the core is
The supreme power of the deity
Who makes the world shrink to a point
Who shares his grace by piety.

Without forgiveness, the least pity
He prevails over a horde of hypocrites
Leading a blind army into war
Commanding a scum of religious fanatics.

A holy martyr with blood on his hands
Is the cornerstone of a decaying stronghold
It’s standing there, in defiance of time
As a monument of murders untold.

Christian superiority was based upon weapons
On the field of Megiddo no one will survive
Benedicted genocides of sacred murderers
Blessed acts of mercy of ideas gone awry
Prepare for the armageddon
Heaven or hell that’s the mortal man’s fate
Follow the lord on the road to perdition
Down to hell on the way of hate.

Machinery Of Hatred

Panzer Metal

Born from the ashes of anger
baptized by the fire of war
a beast created for destruction
to bring them agony and gore.

Created to erase existence
it's the machinery of hatred
crushing the lifeless corpses,
desecrating all the dead.


A rolling heavy killing machine
invented to annihilate them all
the punishment of the modern age
the frightening key to humanity's fall.

Sounds like heaven was torn apart
bullet by bullet erasing the enemy
there's no forgiveness, no mercy
on it's blood covered way to serenity.


Honouring the name of the wargod
it's conquering the battlefield
with the power of all demons from hell
till the enemy will yield.

The monster made of metal
humanity's lethal legacy
it rules the past and the future,
and the darkened Age Of Agony.




We’ve been travelling through hell
deep down for fourty years
the sun rose on a bloodred sky
it was shining in our tears.

A foreign regime, well known puppets
directed this performance
the world around, the life we lived
fear built up our alliance.

Communism came, saw and terrified
policemen went undercover
the most menial created the ÁVH
there was no time to hover.

In 56 we began a revolution
betrayers hung on every lamppost
with their blood we wrote the message
that we’ll fight for freedom at all costs.

The russians prove us wrong
when we thought alone we’re strong
were left to die by the whole wide world
there’s no place we belong.

Now the political state has changed
but the faces are the same
I’d rather see them on those lampposts
than be a puppet in their game.


Two dukes, one heir, one land
One decision layed in God’s hand.
The christian or the warrior's order
To conquer or to keep the border?

Kálmán was destined to be the next in line
The protector of the land and the christian sign
Álmos ran away he prepares for war
Betrayal rules the king's court, rotten to the core.

Brother against brother, father against son
A battle without blood, Álmos on the run
the duke's under arrest in a monastery's shelter
he fled to Passau and brought german invaders.

Where brothers fight, there can’t be peace
spilling royal blood will help the war to cease
The cross brings power and gave Kálmán the right
to torture a duke and burn out a child's eye.

Twentyone years Kálmán ruled the kingdom
With an inquisitor's rage and a monk's wisdom
Two sons, one throne, and one royal ring
And the blind son of Álmos also became king.


Rising from ashes and fire
fed by an everlasting desire
to conquer, to rule to kill
to fulfill the wargod’s will.

Offering his powers on the altar of war
ideas led by evil, rotten to the core
followed by plagues, misery and pain
on ashes, bones and dust he will reign.

Pursuing the heathen, burning the mortals
opening the gates of hell’s nine portals
unleashing his legions to wipe out all life
till anger prevails in a liberating strife.

Kneel before the last messenger of war!
The blasphemous son of torture and gore
fighting on the field of the desecrated corpse
skulls’re crushing under the hooves of his horse.

No ocean, no mountain will stop the beast
mankind will remember his unholy feast
when the rivers of blood torn the grey sky
the moment of truth, when creation gone awry.

Risen from ashes and fire
fed by an everlasting desire
to conquer, to rule to kill
he fulfilled the wargod’s will.


Murder brings no guilt
it’s the spearhead of evolution
the dried blood on the hands
is the seal of forsaken illusions.

All signs of deception
ignorance of mortal life
another battle another campaign
heading for a fatal strife.

Assassinated hopes of freedom
a killing spree of disgust
penetrating unknown boundaries
with weapons covered in rust

Priests are preaching of punishment
speaking of misery and gore
but hell is here there’s no afterlife
but affliction, pain and war.

Values of destruction
principles of desperation
the sacrilege of liberty
a passed chance for salvation

A song for mankind’s burial
an unseen resurrection
a broken, defaced statue
of instinctive devastation



It's a dark nightmare, the massacre I saw
haunting me again in every single night
besieged by emptiness and fear
covered in the blood of the final fight.

Frozen to a sculpture, trapped in the trench
the smell of rotting flesh slowly fills the field
beyond this hell salvation is waiting
I won't rest until my fate is fulfilled.

Surrounded by grey smoke, under heavy fire
repulsing the waves of the attacking enemy
wounding a young boy, killing an older
the bullet of my gun is the key to serenity.

There's no guilt, no vengeance, no murder
keep on firing, till another one falls
a barricade built from unburied corpses
grenades blasting holes into our human wall.

Screaming of warmachines, speeches of ministers
preaching of peace with a gun in one hand
charged by the souls of the fallen
vultures screaming high above the land.


It is the time again, the day turns into night,
to summon the demon, to call the Lord of Light
mortal stupidity grown over divine wisdom
demons lead the legions to crush the christian kingdom.

Raise the ancient spirit summon him with your dance
he has the cure for all the illness, all the ignorance
ethereal creatures spreading leprosy and pest
hordes of devils follow to collect the pitiful rest.

Every day at noon, the sexton rings the bell
every single night you’re travelling through hell
in the middle of a pentagram, you hope they hear your call
for hell instead of heaven, for Lucifer you’ll fall.

Human foolishness and religious blindness
made fear rule the centuries of darkness
The soul is safe, it’s free of sins, white as ivory
Clerics never understood the word called irony.

The Last Division

The first war is lost, but hope's alive
our division holds the eastern borders
make the olah bleed for every piece of soil
standing for our oath, against the Antant-orders.

Kolozsvár is lost, it has almost torn the heart
with tears in our eyes we're leaving the station
many thousands fled from barbaric revenge
firing the flame of our nation's annihilation.

Hungary is cut to pieces by demarcation lines
the Carpats break the echoes of hungarian prayers
the capitol's in silence, it's lost to apathy
the government is led by communist betrayers.

Romanians before us, red cowards behind
every bullet honours the names of our elders
who swore the oath many centuries ago
to defend Erdély against treacherous invaders.

The supplies stolen by the infamous Lenin-boys
the land of my birth lost to inhuman creatures
fighting till the blood runs through my veins
my sword tears the skull of a communist preacher.

Also the brave fall at the end, when fate is fulfilled
our last breath accomplishes the final mission
blood and death writing the pages of history
and the remembrance of the Székely division.


Agony forged by the fire of anger
of a soul torn by mortal existence
dark is the light, but darker the heart
raped by the last remaining sense.

The deepest hate, the raging fury
forming to a curtain in all shades of grey
lying, pretending, without understanding
who's the hunter and who's the fleeing prey.

Embracing shadows for a drop of serenity
seeking the truth in the words of others
they're melting like ice, in this hell of lies
asking a blind man to tell about colours.

Millions of fools haunting my past
billions of deafs listen to the one
who leads them on, till clearness is won
burning the books till everything's gone.

Past, present and future are still alive
I know who I am, know where I came from
I learned how to see, that's my legacy
the antidote for a new paralysing venom...


Buried under the ruins
of what used to be our capitol
german occupation, soviet barbarism
there’s no evacuation protocol.

Stuck in this stoned grave with the remains
of an army used to be superior to all
hiding behind corpses, holding our rifles
among a cemetery’s blasted walls.

The Red Army advancing from the east
line by line they erase our defenses
fighting, withdrawing than fighting again
the constant bombing took our last senses.

We hold them in the city for days
our snipers make them pay for every street
across the Danube, the Castle’s still standing
shot by shot we’re closer to the day of our defeat.

Retreating to Buda, the hills are our last lines
fierce battles we fight to stand against the reds
repelling their attacks in the city cemetery
our minds filled with despair and dread.

After vicious bombing we break out from the castle
no withdrawal again, nor capitulation
awaiting no mercy, neither giving any
a bullet saves us from torture and execution.


Módosítás: (2013. február 20. szerda, 08:28)