Smell of death, trickling walls, I behold
Crypts become the gate of time, constantly devouring
Corpses laying underground, stiff and cold
Temple of forgotten past, dead eternal lies
Epitaphs in cryptic tongues are uncovered
Entering the catacombs, see the open coffin
Rotten faces, pale and cold, stare at us
Kneel to them and pray for death, hear their morbid whisper
Stepping in the ancient temple
Darkened hallway, forgotten chamber
The raining night cleanses your soul
Trembling fear, which chills your bones
Between the mortuary remains
Great enclosure, burial ground
Darkness swallows, we are drowned
The eyes of chaos stare at us
Trance of solace, sullen eyes
Between the mortuary remains
The gate is closed in silver lock
And opens secretly
Ia, almighty Yog-Sothoth
Hen to Pan, All in one
Their corpses lie without name
Lost graves, forgotten
Their voice guides us... there
As we dwell in nothingness
With their stinking flesh
Suffering in madness
Dripping and writhing
Their shades appear on sight
And their voices from below
Awakening and clamoring
At the mortuary remains
We are trapped
By the cold and damp graves