Loud lough, Loki-spawn's jokes
Ludic foulness power invokes
A punch on table, pawns fly away
Generals' battlefield play
We're all abiding a nightmare
Shed of innocent blood
Lies, jobbery and warfare
Time of demise
Masses arise
Thorium, forged in our souls
Oh oh, by the hammer of gods
Thorium, hot boiling metal
We've got rebel blood flowing inside
No, not! Not masses' fools
Sharp red eyes, we rhyme the truth
No TV slaves, uncultured worms
We're Dio's and Schuldiner's youth
No more conniving to horror
Gears on government rules
If kings are weaker than warriors
Why is it they who laugh?
March, army! March!
The cradle of kings is justness' grave
Take them down, equity reigns
Red eyes to see the obliquity's seed!
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