I burn my path of the warrior’s wrath
Too hot to be cooled by rains;
I murder the song of the rapturing thrush
As I chant war’s wrath with its ripping rush.
The mad red wrath with its ripping rush.
His is a song of love and life,
Mine is a screech of hate and strife.
I sing! sing! sing! the wrathful warrior’s song.
Then ping! ping! ping! ’tis the wrathful warrior’s wrong.
I red in the heart of the foe,