The battle waxed strong indeed
Waves of flesh torn and whipped as if ricked
Bodies lie near fallen steeds
O'er blasted ramparts and shredding thickets
The abhorrent hounds keep the track
Styx holds, nay - awaits its reservation!
Death himself lacks much tact
And souls line up in proper station
The dark takes everyones hand
The heathens tear savagely at the door!
I raise, chin quivering, but stand
As black bodies fall to the floor.
Though they take all whom am-
What they cannot take, while with breath I stand,
Is my honor.. My honor!
My Honor... As a Man!