As the horns of war,

Cross the empty plains declare,

That the time has come,

And death is near.

That the craven,

The cowering,

Their Legions come to air.

That as warriors they go,

Unto the final fray.

They live not as heroes,

But die,

Martyrs,

And falsely declare,

That a child may his footsteps revere.

And seek to follow the trail of fear,

To fight and die,

In the name of those they hold dear.

But secretly they hold,

That though they have shunned the beating days,

The blazing sun,

That they may be fulfilled in that final year.

That the Cowards may die the death of Courage.

And so marches forth the Legion.

Gladly, unto Oblivion.