THE RUNES

Sol Invictus / Wakeford

My son be brave, march from the cradle straight to the grave
My son don't sleep, the reaper's here and you have to meet
Mow them down, kill them all, after them there's always more
You're the point to their sword; you're expendable that's all
And this is where the crosses grow
And this is where the runes are sown
The blood of gods and the blood of lovers
We've turned our knives on each other
See them march, hear them scream on the bayonets of tyrant dreams
The fashion, a shroud, dance beneath a poison cloud
Mourn your daughters and your sons, and buy shares in coffins and guns