| Written: OCT, 1998 |
We gather afield as Kindred,
Iron wills when the war horns sound.
Into the fray of Battle,
The calls to arms go' round.
Glory, pride, trust & Honor,
Afield these may all be found.
The heart of man is aggressiveness,
There I'm found with rage Blood-Red.
The enemy in sight, I charge the knight,
His grim eyes, I see fill with Dread.
I destroy another to defend our sanctuary,
Blow, break, throw another for my Kindred.
From my violence & with my rage,
The grim enemy tries for Not.
Now in the snow, the foe lies low,
With the skin of the humble caught.
The prize revealed, our fate is sealed,
With what our blood & tears have bought.
Defending & shielding them,
This I do for my Brethren.
To finally hold the chalice of gold,
I rejoice in the field with my Brethren.
Suffering wounds for each other,
We've shed blood together, as Brethren.
