The warren is empty tonight, 
Blood spills on toiled ground 
Fur will hang in ragged clumps 
Upon the hedgerows 
Peace is lost to us now, 
A fettered ideal x 2 
They are the warmongers 
And they will make our laws 
A paw will fall upon the weak 
They will mark the day 
In death we make our charge, our last lament x2 
To turn the tide, in our numbers; 
The final will fall - they have our fear 
We have the will 
A battle cry will sound out 
Shrill against the night 
And with it our retribution; 
The warren is empty x 5