Loud lough, loki-spawn's jokes
Ludic foulness power invokes
A punch on table, pawns fly away
Generals' battlefield play

We're all abiding a nightmare
Shed of innocent blood
Lies, jobbery and warfare
Time of demise
Masses arise

Thorium, forged in our souls
Oh oh, by the hammer of gods
Thorium, hot boiling metal
We've got rebel blood flowing inside

No, not! Not masses' fools
Sharp red eyes, we rhyme the truth

No tv slaves, uncultured worms
We're dio's and schuldiner's youth

No more conniving to horror
Gears on government rules
If kings are weaker than warriors
Why is it they who laugh?
March, army! March!

The cradle of kings is justness' grave
Take them down, equity reigns

Red eyes to see the obliquity's seed!