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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Your vision is clear No longer deafened But able to hear Child to man, you stand Your time is now Lashing motion of your judgmental hand Tongue and teeth gnashing a solid command: 'As a man forged flesh and bone Of my native mother's land Risen from soil and stone Formed by my father's hand Sworn by purity, prosperity and protection Oppositional lines were crossed We will not fall to, but fight this infection As we sight this spreading viral sign We become an antibody when barrel and skull align Unabided are the restraints of government laws Severed for our birth-given right As men of white To follow a greater cause You say I am but one Yet I am the face of the revolution I am the hand of your salvation The hope of this beloved nation And I am a bullet inside a chamber of many Justified death and destruction beside me as any This bloodline of the swine Inhale it's deportation Standing pure and solid, we shine Exhale it's existence Rid this worldly contamination They have no quality to bear such arrogance Take this hand of salvation Join our march to everlasting victory Walk with us these winding roads of Hell Fly this flag of truth and know our story So truth is exactly what you'll return to tell So that you will see what I have seen And come to understand what we truly mean When along with our hoisted flag Bleeds the head of the Z.O.G. Machine. So the Death's Head marches Just like the sea before the storm The darkened depths of destructive minds churn A single motion of haunting form To ensure that this scum will learn A bullet among many, indeed Columns of each an idea Bearing seed A mirror image of one another Vengeance consumed for the rape of their mother The cities burn as the S.S. discern the corpses From the walking dead Still forward marches the Death's Head The tide rises in a hailing salute of hands outstretched High toward the crimson sky Carving a path toward gates Heaven bound The streets, a tranquil lullaby of no sweeter sound Eyes cast upward Swastika pupils dance along a hellfire grin Certainty that this can be no sin A chant for succession in the hour of white power Proud, bloodstained and pale They chant, "Sieg heil!" With grace and glory, our men of alike blood Hold high both head and hand Against this threat we'll never fail to stand They can't hide from the drowning tide We are the Black Band.
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