Feel the drum beat,
bum bam bum,
feel the cannon flash,
bum bam bum,
feel the emptyness,
bum bam bum,
left by the damned,
bum bam bum.
Steel the young minds,
bum bam bum,
to the reality,
bum bam bum,
that their loved ones,
bum bam bum,
line the filthy streets,
bum bam bum.
Nothing shall remedy,
bum bam bum,
this awful state,
bum bam bum,
and yet we go on,
bum bam bum,
like its all so quaint,
bum bam bum.
The fathers are no more,
bum bam bum,
the mothers long gone,
bum bam bum,
siblings fed to flame,
bum bam bum,
the garrison lives on,
bum bam bum.
Heartless and lacking in humanity doth the warrior seem to all, but in the eyes of a faithful child the murderer becomes the savior till fall.
Rejoicing in morbid appreciation of skills that lead to lethal ends, traps are laid for the innocent, wicked the just and all good men.
And now we watch the lion approach.
In his fangs a child.
Grasping for life's beauty.
Never to be again.
In what world do the true gods lay?
In what God does mercy lay?
In what man does life remain?
In what death does victory claim?
In what death does victory claim?
IN WHAT DEATH DOES VICTORY CLAIM?
