Call forth the rank of minions
Make ready the butchers field
To arms, to arms ye madmen
Dare not to compassion yield !
Thrust through the crying mother
Whose heart pleads today
Care naught for her dreams
Running as crimson upon the clay
Hear not the voice of reason
That weighs upon your soul
Follow the drum of madmen
To whom life is booty of their control
Yea march to the measure lads
Onward to the dulling beat
Let your hearts sing in rapture
Of the woeful sirens beat
Toward the suns setting
As a reddish hue paints the sky
There reflects the vanity of madmen
In the soldiers sightless eye
Russ 2003
