Iron Revolution
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.
Copyright © Nicole Redden | Year Posted 2012
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