We stand before a yellow-starred shadow.
Our right to freely voyage is vetoed.
‘Away! Your way is not worthy.
Your way is no longer welcome here.’
We pray, we pray our power of heathens
will rise and reach beyond the seasons.
It’s our right, we will fight to claim our future bright—
even if the reaper lays us here.
March on, march on to battle.
Our fires have razed our stables.
Doctrine red spears our eye, but we’ll burn that little book dry
in the name of innocence!
Be brave! Be brave and gallant young stallions!
Hope is bleak but words are beacons!
Our armour may blend into the night—but black is stark against light!
…risking all for that which we hold dear.