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Down the vast hills in morning mist cold |
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Into the peaceful deep valley below. |
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Twothousand stallions foaming with hate |
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Carrying their masters towards their fate |
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Into the battle they ride |
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Twothousand men too young to die. |
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Massacre...... |
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Coming from each side prepared for attack |
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Covered in dustclouds now there is no turning back |
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Once so peaceful valley echoes with cries |
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Cascades of blood and brains as the midday sun rise |
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Under a bloodred sky |
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None will live to face the night |
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Massacre...... |
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Amidst the scattered limbs dead bodies finally comes to peace |
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While the stench of blood grows strong in the mild midday breeze |
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Circling the sky the vultures wait to play their part |
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To descend of wings of death and feast from human hearts |
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The battle is lost still someone always wins |
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And now they descend on death's black wings |
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Massacre...... |
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[Massacre......] |
