Move from the way or be burned by our flames,
Warned the soldier to the peasant.
They were marching through the town with torches
Hunting for their enemies.

As we ride our chariot into the war
We shall ram it into the door.
As we slam our ideals into your side
We shall burn our mark to your hide.

Perish witch! Be burned by our flames!
Scorned the soldier at the heretics.
The villagers were being round up and sorted
Those who disobeyed would be slaughtered.

You cannot hide from us.
Quickly, be burned by our flames.
You cannot hide.

We need to leave this place.
We need to move on to the next state,
So we can burn our enemies at the stake.
Lord Gold feeds from your orifices and he wants to see you sweat.
Lord Gold probes you publicly and makes your pussy wet.
Now say his name.....