Dark days indeed
For the heretic doth not sleep
One million worlds hang in the balance
It grips them with malice
Dark days indeed
For the heretic doth not sleep
One million worlds hang in the balance
It grips them with malice

In High Gothic my autoquill recounts
A scriptured heartache
"Heresy and these Tales From The Grim Dark"
In High Gothic the Inquisition cometh
In High Gothic,
"Heresy and these Tales From The Grim Dark"

"We have assessed the political networks of this world
And determined they to be followers of Tzeentch
What be the will of the Inquisition?"

Spare not the heretic bastard
Under boot, send them to their master
Blast this world until shattered
Burn them, burn them and their idols
Forget not
Forgive nothing

My mortal heart fills me with fear
The Emperor's light, it does not shine here

For far too long
Too much grace
Has been waste on the heretic
Burn
Burn their souls
Burn their worlds
End their days and their wicked ways
For far too long
Too much grace
Has been waste on the heretic
Burn
Burn their souls
Burn their worlds
Oh, burn them

There is no place for the weak-willed
There is no place for the heretic
The corrupt must perish
Hallowed be thy ground
The corrupt must perish
Hallowed be thy ground
Only in death does duty end

The eye that sleepeth not
The endless battles fought
Dark days indeed

For far too long
Too much grace
Has been waste on the heretic
Burn
Burn their souls
Burn their worlds
End their days and their wicked ways
For far too long
Too much grace
Has been waste on the heretic
Burn
Burn their souls
Burn their worlds
Oh, burn them