the oustreched grasping hand
my servants rape the land
two thousend years of misery
my name is called religion
my crown is called deceit
i rob you and i slaughter you
and still you play the sycophant
and all my promises are lies
i march before a martiant world
i speak of great heroic days
i hold a banner drenched in blood
i lead you to your destiny
your bones will build my palaces
your eyes will stud my crown
for i am mars the god of war