Merrimack Cold Earth Mourning
In the grey fields of terror and death, where cannons
never sleep and hunger is never quenched, they die and
die and keep on dying in vermin and cold rancid blood.
Forward, forward! In mud and in blood! Forward, nevermind
the iron storm. Ardour has passed away a long time ago
now, no one could tell when, no one could tell why. But
this life is not life, it's the whole world committing
mass suicide. Once convicted of unity, now beholding the
true face of disharmony, allies have all failed, Sofia
has fallen. Whatever, the march goes on and on and on...
Here in the grey fields of terror and death, far away
from homeland, defeatists and traitors, the alliance of
death keeps on marching, keeps on dying for the sake of
eternal confrontation. Reeling skeletal shadows,
sleepless and dismayed, praying helpless gods when the
night is too long in quaint rosaries and rusty weaponry,
though there's no place for doubt: there will still be
death! In regrets and in fear, in sludge and in disease,
it keeps on calling to burn what's left to burn. Forward,
forward! In mud and in blood! And forget the mouths of
clay that swallow forever more. Fidelity to the one whom
time has passed can't prevent the ravage of his heritage
by the untenable scarlet tempest brought forth from the
land of his eastern akin. The illusion of peace, the hoax
of defeat has planted the seeds for times of sedition,
and men will be seduced and scream in jubilation as
darkness and despair covers the entire world.
