Into the Fray the Bold and True.
Into the Hells wrought by Angels.
Into the the sound of thunder crashing;
crashing on the Eastern shore.
The Earth is railed at their wake.
Through sound and arms they strike as none.
And have awoken a peace seen aloof;
the World is united against the storm.
For centuries the land has quaked.
Histories have been made upon those dunes;
those dunes that make the Eastern shore.
For on those shores, the black gold prospers.
Guns and Oil have been no stranger to Mother Earth.
Surely she coughs at each puff.
But of that pain
is for another time.
Today the journey continues,
the never ending quest to soak a land
with the red of a nation grim,
and strike fear in those that would follow.
Who is to say,
which aim is true?
Should the giant bow to the snake?
or should the snake make still his woeful fangs
Against an enemy so dear.
One can triumph against many!
That is their call.
Yet time and again,
their cries have adorned our halls
We strike as one, with s