A cold wind is blowing of the steppes
The crash of thousand hoofs resounds
Around the edge cloud of dust
The ground is shaking under the deadly march

Nomad warriors hiding across europe
Crushing the resistance with their sharp blades
Rains of arrows decimate their enemies
Rise of an empire fall of many others

A cold wind is blowing of the steppes
The crash of thousand hoofs resounds

Their crimson banner floats in the air
Bringing ruins and havoc
The simple sight of their dark helmets
Turns the bravest soldier into a fucking coward

Cranium clusters beside the destroyed walls

They will bring down the world

The deadly march!