VASSUS - Warlike Madness DigiCD

Indomitable Hatred, drives us forward to war! Fell screams, herald cries, upon the dawn of battle. Drawn swords, glimmer amidst ranks of men. The precipice of war calls thee. English bows, standing tall upon the hill top, take aim. Stood firm amidst the storm of war. Violent enthralment bares down on my mind, This fetish of death surrounds and obsesses me. Pleasure and death becoming one, pushing us further and further. Death becomes our master.

Steadfast we stand, with spear in hand, shield raised in another. The songs of our brothers rings out to the enemies ranks. Our Blades thirst, for the flesh of these men, who would stand against us. Give the order to charge as we let out our Warcry! The rush of battle takes hold, consuming all in its path, delight in blood spilt upon the soil, death's eternal glory is our mark! Fallen brothers lay battered upon frozen blood and earth, as the rhythm of blade on helm and mail can be heard, Cries of pain be their melody. Lives are given in pursuit of this hate. Only in death, glorious death will the bloodshed end.



Violent screams echo forth from fields behind us. Terror spreads like fire through the minds of the men surrounded up on the hill top. Fleeing north though the brush, over thorns and thistle. Bleeding out weakening with every step coming no closer to your freedom from pain. Waist deep in the river, Nowhere left to run. Bodies pile high about me. We turn ourselves to face them, with renewed hate in our hearts we raise our weapons once more. Our final stand, Sword still in hand, we kill to survive. We fight till we die!

Our numbers wane, against our enemies blades, cut down in droves, yet we won't break again. Fight to the last man, until the sword drops from hand. Taken by rivers flow to rest in silt and sand. Buried low, lost to time, nameless bones rest beneath the rivers tide. The glory of the bloodshed lost to the waves. Our bones lay in wait, For the earth to consume us once more. No etching in stone Marks the sight of our end, Only written in tome are the deeds of our lords. Yet the marks left upon our bones lets this legacy be be seen