Bid Thy To Slaughter Child, To Slaughter

In the august acclamations of weaponry befits this uniform adorned and in prideful boast our livery of arsenal upon the enemy scorned From this distant seat shall reap dead carapace the automata's bullet indulges no refugee to warrant such requital in fitting disgrace the cowards of deaths technology Bid thy to slaughter my child, to slaughtered be in renditions dark battalions and gather fragile limbs splatter splintered trophy behest accolades pinned medallions Touch pad the joy stick of war games reload the unflinching trigger machine gun of anonymous names ply the graves of the unknown soldier Set cause to profit and property and in soulless regalia execute this pestilent act to defile humanity so reaped upon this bloody scythes repute For this distant throne still bids fears menace with guided missile acquits accountability shall bare no witness to rueful penance of cowards whelped by deaths technology Bid thy to slaughter then my child, and to slaughtered be in viscous deliverance either of these dream thee not of honor or bravery but in nightmares blade this evil appease