Sowing Salt

We are son of Scrutifyers Helped to set Horeb in flame! Spider-Glion, Black Snake Driven to never bow in fear Before no god, king, nor man! Spider-Glion, Scorch of his name! March forth Flee not March forth We, the very voice of fierce revenge The trembling giants, laying all to waste Deviate in the echoes of the revelation's bane This is a song that brings not joy, but pain Deviate in the echoes of the howling devil's reign Marksport! Bring that! Marksport! Marksport! My sword is tiring and perilous infantry Flee not like down-flagged Napoleon's sword We, the son of Scotiate Not of the morality of the Slash! March forward! Flee not! March forward!