Young minds wander Of their future Their most probable demise Infecting their thoughts They look to the skies The sun rises Rays of light flow Across the frozen glade A picture of beauty Soon to be stained The warlord gathers his army On this day of uncertainty Suddenly a voice breaks the calm The warlord cries: "Men, to Arms!" The soldiers reach the killing ground where hate and pain are to be found As the gods survey the field the anxious soldiers grip their shields The gods of war know no remorse The only death is by the sword Prepared for battle Ready for war Blood of men will spill on to the land for which they shall kill Conflict commences determination fighting for the horde A soldiers best friend is his sword