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Impeccable cross of my kin!

It was I that had rammed you into the barren ground

We shaped our flags from rags, now stuck atop the iron mark

Rags, once bandages, produced from infected wounds

'Twas the march that had taken from us all and given unto us everything

Persistent cannons of the war!

Oh, how you litter our path... costly as you were

Your weight has taken our strength

We shall return as the delicate beggars we are

In this very moment, the ones, the conquerors

To take up the cross when through it you can win a kingdom

Oh delicate spiral, the one down the windy slopes in Lucifer's chains

Grand takers of cities!

Steady, slithering snakes, the shaking hands covered in grime and fuel

Those used to masturbate upon this very soil

Oh, have they lain upon the pulsating clitoris of time

Yes is it but the price we pay that is our very essence of the blessing?

Oh, abandoned lands afar!

We, the takers, have withdrawn

From you, left with but a cross driven into your ground

From you, knowing not more of us than we ourselves

To take up the cross when through it you can win a kingdom

Oh delicate spiral, the one down the windy slopes in Lucifer's chains