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Rode out at dawn with Bibles and blades,

Ashes and crosses marked where we stayed.

Children were crying we baptized in fire,

We pissed on their idols, we shattered their drums,

Cut out their tongues so they’d welcome the Son.

They begged for the spirits, we gave them disease

Glory, glory, stake the claim,

With gospel rot and purging flame.

From heaven’s light to Red Man’s grave,

The Lord hath willed the land of slaves.

Raise the hymns, O conquering host

Drink to the lash, and praise the Ghost.

We flayed the skin from their pagan priests,

Fed dogs their hearts at victory feasts.

The women we took, baptized in bed,

Cleansed in His name as their villages bled.

We fenced the Eden they dared to roam,

Branded the wild and called it home.

Their bones made roads, their tears made wine

Christ smiled through each brutal line.

Let none say we did not believe.

We built His kingdom on every corpse.

With muskets for scripture, we wrote Revelation

In scalps and soot.

We are the saints of empire, the angels of plague.

And we shall inherit the earth

Even if we must salt it first.

Glory, glory, swords held high,

God is with us — let them die.

Bury the mother, sell the child,

The Savior walks where we defiled.

Raise the hymns, ye righteous few

The meek are gone. The earth is due.

Every treaty, a Judas kiss

We taught them peace with clenched fists.

Burned their prayers, laughed at their ghosts,

Hung their chiefs from steeple posts.

And when they came in winter cold,

Starved and blind and meek and old

We sang of Jesus, broke their bread,

And blessed the snow that filled their dead.

Glory, glory, all is done,

The cross stands tall and so does the gun.