Besedila:
Temple Of Baal Black Unholy Presence

When darkness falls upon this pitiful land Alone I start roaming through your feared shadows I become as one with night, envelopping your mortal coil

They step into the old house Strange crucifixes hanging on the walls Soon they invert them all The invocation ritual has begun Magic circle in the red

a reward And Jesus so-called son of the feeble bastard Has never come again as told the prophecies Yes Jesus we've won, disciples of Baal We are forever