Hopeless Glory

The heathens at the gate Are roaring endlessly about our city's fate Their swords, shackles and slates Raises our city's sense of hate We've had no chances 300 knights and horses waving their lances The sound of galloping just 300 feet away The heart-throbbing fear is here to stay They've come to defame our gods And enforce their goddesses Their way is a gross facade And we will fight them against all odds So raise the flags of war Hide the women and wives For if we lose, our kin will be their whore Threatened with their lives Their bosoms taken as heretical brides Hide the children The little ones free of sin For they will be taken in as slaves Working for their goddess until they meet their graves And as for the men, we fight We charge at them with all our might Let our gods be our armour And their blood be our valour Let our lack of numbers surprise be their falter And let their heads be sacrificed on our alters