In the river of blood was a battle to be fought,
The spring of hate, the falls in vain.
War that came as swift as the wind,
Was the hunter hunted or as such be in pain?
Soar across the land did armies with fear,
Live their life for others for themselves.
Made par the limits was nature itself,
Survival of the fittest the rule that kills.
Winds of fire shall run through the land,
Limit as nothing to be crossed by warriors.
Their steps to be heard after ages to pass,
Sacrifice for a cause a curse of the sand.