There's No Wine Like the Blood's Crimson

Bloodred sky

Bloodred fields

The sun in it's last breath

Providing the shadows of the trees

A moment to dance before death

Still - Their makers dance

In the cold breeze

That gives to me the stench

Of blood not yet cold

And torn dead flesh

I raise my hammer of war

To call my vulture

Up high it flues from the fields

From it's kingdom it sees

The most wonderful sights

Dead men - Wounded worms

The remains of a conquered land

My slaughtery and victory

My hammer shall not yet rest

From the north I hear

Hordes of young men

How unaware they are of their peoples

Angel of death

Their blood shall paint my armour

As I slay them all brutally

Down the hill they ride

I greet them with my warcry

As I slam my hammer into the grown

Come to me mortals

My wary hatred engraves

Fear in their faces as they see their death

I am war, I am death

My hammer crushes skulls and bones

Screams of fear

My swords thirst driwbs in blood

Tears and begging for mercy

I laugh and kill

I am the god of war

I am Ares