Letra de la canción 'FOR THOSE WE HATE' de 'ASTAROTH'

In peace there is nothing so becomes a man
as modest stillness and humility:
but when the blast of war blows in our ears,
then imitate the action of the tiger;
stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood
The gates of mercy shall be all shut up,
and the fleshand'd soldier, tough and hard of heart,
in liberty of bloody hand shall range
with consience wide as hell, mowing like grass
your flesh - fair virgins and your flowering infants.
What is it then to me, if impious war,
arrayand'd in flames like to the prince of fiends,
do with his smirchand'd complexion, all fell feats
enlinkand'd to waste and desolation?
what is it to me,
when you yourselves are cause,
if pure maidens fall into the hand
of hot and forcing violation?
Your fathers taken by the silver beards,
and there most reverend heads dashand'd to the walls;
your naked infants spitted upon pikes,
whiles the mad mothers with their howls confusand'd

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