There is a deep pathos here
monumental sorrow
Blood has stained this ground
The very land itself a barrow

The echoes of battle ring cold through the ages
The moon shines on old dunes, awakening ancient hatreds

Swords held high to the desert sky at such great a cost
Standards fly above funeral pyres
Victory and loss
We are strong, but when the day is done we are left bereaved
Marching on to the battle [bad word] 
Triumph and defeat

Behold the storming flood of iron
 [bad word] wrought there upon the field
host of warriors fall, never to return
Their epitaph a song of steel

Empires built upon the bones of those who stood beside us
The sun has set eternally into the dark
And we have seen the fields of war steal the lives of sons and brothers
The iron heart of glory beats a hollow dirge
The gods of battle rise and fall but the thirst for blood lives on
The Wolves of Winter rise and howl for honour’s debt
The sands forever greedily consume the blood of friends and fathers
The gates of Hood will open wide with dreams of death

There is a deep pathos here
monumental sorrow
Blood has stained this ground
The very land itself a barrow