The Great Migration

Cult of Luna
Heed the capercaillies' call
A premonition of an oncoming war
Leave behind all that you hold inside
The howls get stronger, they are coming
Wicked is the atmosphere
Ungodly is this swell
Our bodies explode in true emotions
Let the beacon fires burn
This night is ours
A maternal light illuminates these last moments
Far above the truth, we find and we all return to hell