by Nick Gisburne
We come to take your home, your heart, your life,
And every piece of pride you ever knew.
Abandon your emotions, and the knife.
I see. I understand it. I was you.
This poor, pathetic hovel, sticks and mud,
The dirty space in which you hide, and sleep,
Is this what puts the steel inside in your blood?
Is this the field you sow, the yield you reap?
Come with us. We are warriors. We kill.
We take the fruits we find, from every tree.
Refuse us, fight us, throw aside the thrill,
And thousands will destroy you, men like me.
Whatever price you pay, whatever cost,
Without us, without purpose, you are lost.
