O Father Of Mountains!
Thou, Master Of All Valleys!
Show Us Thy Tough Face!
Let Us Climb Thy Tor And Disappear!
Let Us Fall In Thy Dark Vale And Die!

And Then There Shall Be No More Vultures
Soaring High Above Thee
Waiting For Thy Last Breaths,
For Thy Stinking, Rotten Flesh.
We Shall Be Waiting For Thy Last Cold Breaths! ! !