Tales of the conflicts of the past
echoing into the present at last

whispers to your self before the firefight
will bring no peace to the blood at night

haunted by the terror they aim to bring
into their homes will our bullets sing

the screams in the portals we opened
cried for their blood

now as in the songs they sang,
we have come to do as we must

they smashed our altars,
killed our gods

but the pendulum swings
and for us a new dawn

your kings, fed to the void
your empires will crumble

in the face of our masses,
your armies too, will be humbled

the virulent revenge of our mother
the crushing march of the "other"

beneath the treads of what's to come
unmake their world
and plant a seed for our own

so it is written, and so it must be done
as in the time, of the ancient ones.

Nature demands her due.
No longer will the efforts of the many
engorge only the few

Let their pews be hacked up for fuel,
pyres to the dark womb of the void.

as we lap up the red waters of victory
fate plunges its quill in the inkwell of history

so the scarlet words will fill the pages,
of the tomes that will tell of the struggle for the ages.

Those yet to come will curse those that did nothing
their offspring to be fed to the sun

the few that escape us,
will be riddled with plagues by its rays

as the sun crushes our enemies when they leave our world
so will night protect us, as we reclaim what is ours

so what more can be said, for the tales of the dead

their words long ago forgotten, but some still know

the memory returns when we look to the past

to remember whats been done, and what must come to pass.