Bring forth the Fire, Bring forth the Flame, We hunger now for Wars rich treasures. To bathe in Blood and Bathe in Fire, we are now humbled by our Masters dread cry. He roars and rages, with pistons and blades, springs and flints. The War is his call, and the Battle is his Horn; Musk he is naught, for blessed with maiden scent; he now brings the deepest lament. The Death of his enemies, for a victory from a distant shore. Now comes the Hour, Now comes the moment; when he strikes, both fear and Death. To look at his eyes, is to see Hell; as much as you can imagine it. You see it, glorious, gleaming through his eyes, Hell; a paradise un-vanquished. You see it, just before the Rain of Hail; bullets, shells, even dread dragons. He comes to collect, more faces, and more lives; more than his share. He brings them all dead and trampled, to his woman, and for Her, he would scathe the World. His Maiden in Hell.