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I dreamed of thousands of bodies raining,
falling like bombs straight to their graves.
Manna coming from heaven just to feed grief.
Fields covered with the glorious corpses
of all the believers broken under the wheels,
Meat for the dogs and compost to the soil.
Nothing else
No valhallas, no glory,
no god was here to see
how the young blood
is the one best bleeds
Th' Angel of Fate turns them with mighty hands,
And casts them out upon the darken'd earth!
´till all the graves are digged
and the deserts are painted in red
And rise, with ghosts, over the well-fought field.
So be it.
More!, more!, never enough!
and the leftovers pile up in massgraves..
Bodies rotting, life sprouting.
Stems crawling silent
to the throats of the murderers.
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