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• Artiste: Thunderbolt
• Titre: ...Where The Plague Touches...
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As the crow flies As the wolves howl The rivers will run red When storm clouds of war blacken the sky Where the plague touches, like a parasite War is sure to come Turning brother against brother Father against son, blood against blood Spilling the lifeblood of a tribe The fatherland weeps raped and soiled Stained with the blood of its sons Armies once allies move in for the kill There is no mercy for the weak There is no honour among thieves Pillars of smoke curl across the plundered land The stench of the dead rises high The conquerors bring nothing but death Feeding upon itself, like maggots in a wound A once vibrant tribe lies in the thrall of death The lifeless body of the land lies in peace at last Hopes and dreams lying cold and dead Alongside the bodies of the sons Clasped beneath winter cold breast Buried below its virgin white snow Remembered not even in memory or legend