The Song of the War Spirit

Mayhem, destruction, cataclysm

The tides of war beckon toward the chasm

of complete annihilation; Ragnarok,

The whole miserable world will finally croak.

Sticks and stones, though highly primitive,

When breaking backs, are no less punitive.

Faces painted red and blue, take the field,

warriors with no amour, no mail, no shield.

The war drums' beat, me awakened

Eons of slumber, finally concluded

A fresh new world to ravage

With inhabitants refreshingly savage.

Swords, pikes and spears; bows and arrows,

Bring to end lives aplenty, filled with sorrows

Pharaoh, shaman, emperor and priest send out to fight

at their bidding soldier, warrior, samurai and knight.

The war horns loud and clear, sound a welcome.

For the time of war's own spirit has finally come.

I once again ride forth gaily on the land,

Wielding, blazing red and glorious, my sword in hand.

Guns, germs and steel, gifts of industry

have given war the tools to chart a new history.

Religion and Communism; Nationalism and Fascism

battling each other towards the ultimate schism.

My fellow spirits worthy - pestilence, famine and death

With horses white, black and pale prowl this cursed earth.

We spare not king nor knave, nor scepter nor scythe not Spade

For of equality paragons are we; none can us evade.

Submarines and fighters, rockets and war heads nuclear

with powers destructive unseen of, unheard of, bring near

The day of reckoning, the day when finally triumphs justice

brought to fruition by man's own greed and avarice.

To us the gallant horsemen will the earth bequeath in a heap

The wounded, the famished, the diseased and dead shall we reap

For the road to war has been chosen, the dance of destruction

must bring all vermin foul to their final destination.

Mayhem, destruction, cataclysm

The tides of war beckon toward the chasm

of complete annihilation; Ragnarok,

The whole miserable world will finally croak.