Once there was a race full of prinde and glory,
Let me tell something of their ancient story.
Their symbol was the sun and mighty runes,
Secret holy sign to honour the gods.
Their fatherland was the secret north,
Mighty thule from there they came from.
To spread culture over the earth,
And bring back again aryan rebirth.
They were the knights,
The knights of the sunwheel.
They were the guardinans of the aryan blood.
They were the knights,
The knights of the sunwheel.
They were the servants of the pagan gods.
Now they are all gone.
Look what our world has become.
The secret of the runes are long forgotten.
Pure blood is nearly rotten.
The kingdom of the monkey king.
Chain as weak as weakerst ring.
Wheel of life is broken.
Believe, last word is not spoken.
Something shines in the night.
Black sun has allways been lights.
In a word made of frost.
Eternal fire is not lost,
I see the north star in the sky.
Some flames are to hot to die
The triumph of will shall arise!
