The Sixth Bridge of Tmuska

In the waters of Pripyat horror is hiding
Seven rains of fire upon seven winds
A horn of bone calls out in the woods
Where even fear itself dies

Stomp on the crumbling bones, wake them up
Belarusian blood fire blaze up
Slap on the strings smoke on the altar
Tsmok is already here, he is your master

Duda and Zhalejka, the breath of winter
Roots of the oak the smell of black earth
This is not a prayer, this is the rhythm of the coffin
In the zombie dance we are not alone