Surrender to the sound of drums,
The march of death that slowly comes,
Give in to the cries of war,
That make their way into your core,
Watch men fight with shallow breath,
Falling to the grasp of death,
Listen as they scream in pain,
Sundered by the piercing rain,
A life of torture, terror, fear,
Until they at last disappear,
Into a world of wailing souls,
Hungry ghosts now filled with holes,
Burdened with the thirst for battle,
Marching death - aligned like cattle,
You see it all; refuse to care,
And head to war as ghosts then stare,
Surrendered to the sound of drums,
The march of death that slowly comes.
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