As the crow flies

As the wolves howl

The rivers will run red

When storm clouds of war blacken the sky



Where the plague touches, like a parasite

War is sure to come

Turning brother against brother

Father against son, blood against blood

Spilling the lifeblood of a tribe



The fatherland weeps raped and soiled

Stained with the blood of its sons

Armies once allies move in for the kill

There is no mercy for the weak

There is no honour among thieves

Pillars of smoke curl across the plundered land

The stench of the dead rises high

The conquerors bring nothing but death

Feeding upon itself, like maggots in a wound

A once vibrant tribe lies in the thrall of death



The lifeless body of the land lies in peace at last

Hopes and dreams lying cold and dead

Alongside the bodies of the sons

Clasped beneath winter cold breast

Buried below its virgin white snow



Remembered not even in memory or legend