Enemies of the Khanate strung on hooks like pigs to slaughter.
Heads will roll.
Heads will roll, throats will be slit and blood will flow like springs of water.
Heads will roll.
To the River Red(across the ochre steppe)
A thousand fathers killed, a thousand virgin daughters spread with swords still wet, with swords still wet with the blood of their dead.
Nurjan is upon us, he kills in silence after prayers.
Genghis Khan is upon us, and he slays his betrayers.
Thus still the fools of God will guard the city of our birth,
Hold an ear to the ground,
Hear the sound.
Of Clamoring and horses stammer as their gallop meets the earth.
A thousand fathers killed, a thousand virgin daughters spread with swords still wet, with swords still wet with the blood of their dead A thousand fathers killed, a thousand virgin daughters spread with swords still wet, with swords still wet with the blood of their dead
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow they will find us.
Hide the children free of sin.
We will meet their blades by morning.
Protected only by our skin.
Tomorrow we will find them.
Seek the youngest of their kin.
And we will meat them with our fury.
And we will crush them all like vermin.
And we will crush them all like vermin.
Artist: Inara George
Artist: Keith Green
Artist: Livingston Taylor