The Warriors Of Modern Death


All raised

To be men

Given image and path


Idolised warriors

Bright steel

Burning rage

Never too late to try

Stand tall

Never plead

Live and let die

I see the spirit

Of those ancestors

And reconsider the faith

A primitive sword

Can not win my war

Cold fury

Flaring eyes

Calculated verbal gun

My pride


Spiritual steel shines bright

Beyond the sun

The pride of the warrior

Is far from dead

The colours of death

Are still black and red

Though modernised

Blood wil be shed