Gods of War and Open Sores

It seeps through the skin and soaks in the eyes, to feast on broken men and fortunes of empires. Move in for the kill, strike terror at the sight when the knife cuts the light of day. We are the gods of war. Release the plague, flesh eating open sores. Decide right now if you're our warriors, or steam will rise from your hollow open sores. The warlord takes the and towers over all. Wait for our eagles' claw to viral gouge his eyes. Axe thrash to our limbs, lives drop by our slice. Your last stand before the fall of day We are the gods of war. Release the plague, flesh eating open sores. Decide right now if you're our warriors, or steam will rise from your hollow open sores. Blood rust on our blade. Burn your bodies or the epidemic will spread on.