In a silent morning haze, under desolate trees of old loom scattered shelters of some infantry troops. Dawn burns east as every morning yet some unknown tension freezes the air and the warriors grow wary in spirit and heart...
Suddenly clouds of dust rise above the pale horizon and the watchmen spring to their feet. Sound of horns stirs up a warcry and the host lines up for attack!
Horns of war pierce the air Warriors clad in shining mail Swords and leather, fire and steel Clash of iron, grim whet spears
Into the battlestorm...the heads of the fallen are shattered under hoofs and chariot wheels, blades cut man by man and the soil is soaked in blood : thousands of slaves are working afield, reaping the harvest of death...
Yet as the dark draws nigh And dusk falls on the menacing peace White ghosts of war-men long reapen here - Faces of horror and dread and of throe - Then roam among the countless bodies Hewn upon the battlefield
Oh, drive away the carrion And bury your peers And then mourn as you can And rejoice as you dare to Until the horns of war sound again This is a warrior's destiny To solemnly loaf And await the sound of the horns...Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
