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Live by the book, follow the prophet

He who slays, will be given salvation

Heathens will die, to our war cry

Drawing a sword, charge for Yahweh

The army of the cross is marching, glistening and gleaming, in the sun, hordes of fanatics burning with zeal, beyond reckoning, pagan blood will run.

Cuts and slays all in its way, destructive forces, holy and devout, merciless brutality of the farther, crusading onwards, driving the pagans out.

Banners raised high, their lives at stake

Ravaging all their lands, left in our wake

To drain the blood, of those in the east

No mercy to the followers, cursed by the beast

Rapidly tearing through all opposition

Burning with hatred of pagan superstition

Waging an endless war of mindless attrition

Stopping only at our enemies utter submission

Bringing forth demise, many untold pains

Adorned in countless, crosses and bloodstains

A brutal display of the churches might

We are the hounds of the lord’s blight