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When the great Gods of the Olympus rose
And men gathered to celebrate those
Who never change but who held the reins
All the nations stooped and never cared
Never had guts to spare

King of the Red – The bearded dead
Summon the hordes in boots of led
With bolted doors then off to war
They will forgive in the end, after all it’s for
The rise of another Reich – Hailed and glorified
Yet now, when the game is over
The world is yet again
Astute and able to view with opened eyes
And to condemn them faraway everyday crimes

Put ’im in the box – This Russian fox
With furry chest and gun and ship him off
To hunt the lost
Hiding ‘neath the rainbow
There he will find an answer
Only he is looking for!

King of the Red – The bearded dead
Must stash his mustache – And shoot ‘em dead
With bolted doors then off to war
In the shadow of a self made idiot born
From underneath a wishful thinking
Of a third world war
While pencil pushing at the borders of the law
Now praise the host and raise the cup
In the name of the Gods this will never ever stop

Hail! Hail!
The King of the Red
Hail! Hail!
The King of the Red

King of the Red!
Siberia will await the fox
Open armed to welcome the defender of imperial arts
King of the Red!
This pale war mongerer
Hellbent on walking in the worn torn footsteps of the…
…dead Kings of the Red

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