Crimson desire, strong and clear;
Serving Fain, my one request.
Bring Him gold, sanguine smeared;
Heap up corpses, at His behest.

Slay the merians, bring their corpses;
Crying elven, slay them quick.
Chittering kephera, not forgotten;
Stained with ichor, our blades are slick.

Grovelling, we come before Him;
Mask covers all, His eyes glint red.
Steel gauntlet tapping shows His displeasure,
Who dares anger, the Crimson Death?

The waltz plays on, a steady tune;
As our Lord begins to speak.
Hatred glares out from His eyes,
Death and chaos what He seeks.

Those above you are unworthy,
those below, they seek your rank.
Watch behind you for a dagger
And before you, a narrow path.

In His glory are we remade;
Forged of flesh, spirit and bone
smelted in fire much like a blade.
Sins of Celest, we must atone.