The sea will be as a desert

When my bones are long to dust

Beneath shifting dunes

And the searing Unconquerable son

Pile the bodies on the pyre

Warm the old heart of the earth

This is no place for faith, nor for hope

Just a journey through the darkest of nights

To the old heart of the earth

These are wounds made by cold hands

That know the bite of steel

Hands that have rendered life extinct

And punished the weak at heart

Tell me what Nation on this Earth

Is not born of Tragedy?

That has not felt such harsh weapons

Wielded by cruelty's desire