The Rising Horns

("..And they rot, in a delicate and subtle dance, their lifes aren't more than a fleeting and insignificant sigh in the history of this land. There is no place for the weak in the natural order, just the strong and the brave will govern the Earth")

The clouds are moving in their whimsical dances
The wind sings an old song of war.

The temple is shining between oil lamps
Prayers are flowing into the air.

The vault in heaven is illuminated by the stars
The birds disappeared from the dead sky
Megaliths are raised to the firmament
Offerings are piled on the altar stone
Full of sculpted symbols of ancestral gods
It's stone glow under the silvery moon.

Ivy bare walls keep out the enemy
No fear to the spear or sword the honor comes with us
Shamash is awaiting me in his golden throne.

Terror is made for the slave
The glory accompany to the brave
Empty man lacking courage
New inhabitant of an unmarked grave
Forever the shame will pursue you
Forgotten to the eyes of the real gods.

The path of the just is stained with blood
You march with bare feet on thorns.

In the depths of the earth, in the highest point of the sky
You can hear the sounds of the horns of war.