A sour wind brought it to our shores and anchored it from the tide
Where it pooled in every furrow and open fold
and sank into the soil
It makes its presence known in the filth of slums
and the splendor of foreign metropoleis
Whose wealth and grandeur were won at the crack of the whip
and the point of the bayonet

Borne on knives
Our rapture
Borne on knives will breathe
A new Sun will breathe

Spewing a venomous tension deep into sinew and soul
Stirring the blood toward murderous movements
Its tongue weaves whispers of fields choked with the blood of the master
and the blood of the fellow man
It makes its presence known with a flame in the heart
Burgeoning with righteous fury and fervor
Steeling the hand and the eye
Awaiting the hour of dusk drawing ever near

Beat your ploughshares into spearheads
and mark your flesh with the symbols of your will and fortitude
Seek the aid of unclean spirits and bind them under our Sign

"May you wither and crumble
May you hunger as we have hungered
May we die, yet rise again
To die and rise again"

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