Bolt Thrower

Spent rounds
The coffin nails
On your empires fall
Icy silence
No recourse
All crusibles ignored
Forward into darkness
Futures unknown
Dire incursions rage
No one man stands alone
Await the call
Oncoming storm
Let come what may
The bodies of your dead can wait till dawn
Sentinel of destiny
Enemy engaged
Numbered with the dead
Take your glory to the grave
Peace - dream of the wise
War - the history of man
Once refined, now demonized
Hatred overran
Await the call
Oncoming storm
Let come what may
The bodies of your dead can wait till dawn
Duty bound, to die without defeat
Awaken life immortal, one last bitter retreat
Contact made - wait out
Send command received
When none remain
And all are overrun
…Objectives seized