Called on behalf of war
There is no space for mercy
We turn death into fate
There is no space for prisioners
Powder's smell
You've lost before even started
Feel the wrath of Satan
He's marching and crushing skulls
Through screams and killing machines
The smell of burning flesh
And black powder fills the air
Warm blood covers the ground
Charred smoldering bones over the place
We're rifling through the ruins to kill survivors
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