No! I am not your soldier!
Not a Praetorian guard,
I'm not a pawn to move for you,
Not your sword nor shield,
What have you done for me today?
Have you moved water so I can walk?
Have you grown and become a god?
No! You are not Pol ***!
You look into the eyes of God,
And dare to take his throne,
While whispering behind his back.
He knows, he knows,
I know, and they know.
You are the dazzle that blinds,
You are the poison on the sword.
Let us be! So life can live!

Our revenge will be the laughter of our children,
Once all the dogs have seen snakes and gone away.
Medusa can sit on rocks, a restful villain.
But not us, no! We don't strive to only slay!
But their evil needs it—they keep smothering.
Though she often sleeps—she’ll always find a way.
Back to Ireland where no one's bothering,
To stop yelling—Is fuath liom an Sasanach.
Medusa sings: “Chains at last are withering.”

The sun shines from two spots this morn,
One of light to show the way,
The second sun, the hero’s scorn.

By the tool of those who burn,
Who want to come and seize the day,
The sun shines from two spots this morn.

The beast stirs, no longer in thorns,
Finally freed by he who slays.
The second sun, the hero’s scorn.

The beast attacks with claws reborn,
Rage, rage, rage, it conveys.
The sun shines from two spots this morn.

The beast falls dead, his fate long sworn,
And for those who look away,
The sun shines from one spot this morn.

Oh there! Another beast is born,
Sent from the darkness these last thousand days,
The sun shines from two spots this morn,
The second sun, the hero’s scorn.