"RITUAL MARCH"

Awaken the cell, the wire,

the stone

Tick-tick in the sub-bass zone

Sa-kur te-rem, no has-va

Fu-kur pra-ra-kash, i-shu-da-va

Seven to stride, then the shadow turns Steel in the breath as

the cold wind burns Nan-ti mi-as,

ku-kus tu-teth

The pulse stays lean,

the pulse stays true

Re-vi-va-sa Re-vi-va-sa Sa-kur te-rem,

no has-va

Re-vi-va-sa Re-vi-va-sa I-shu-da-va, no has-va

Ash on the tongue,

gray light in the eyes Nordic night in the machine-sky rise Shiv-er-ing

breath, sharp consonant blade

Fu-kur pra-ra-kash, the old rites made

Seven to strike, and the iron learns Deep under frost,

the blue circuit churns Nan-ti mi-as,

ku-kus tu-teth

We speak in code with a winter breath

Re-vi-va-sa Re-vi-va-sa Sa-kur te-rem,

no has-va

Re-vi-va-sa Re-vi-va-sa

I-shu-da-va, no has-va

Oooommmm, oooommmm, low in the dark

Male drone rising like a steel heart Shhhh,

shhhh,

the breath cuts thin The old machine lets the winter in

Re-vi-va-sa Re-vi-va-sa Sa-kur te-rem,

no has-va

Re-vi-va-sa Re-vi-va-sa Fu-kur pra-ra-kash,

i-shu-da-va

Nan-ti mi-as

Ku-kus tu-teth

Oooommmm... shhhh...

oooommmm... No has-va