We walk to the rhythym of the war drums.
Our blood pounds, hearts beating faster.
We offer sacrifices to death, our cruel master.
The souls of our enemies, the blood from their veins.
We deal out his judgement, rejoice in the pain.
We blaze a trail through the land, leaving naught in our wake.
The frail see us coming, their hearts quake.
Overcome by fear from the tales told of us.
Death's soldiers, his slaves, here we stand thus.