Ancient fields lie fallow lost in time
As old as the land itself, here they thrive
In their city formed of cold gray stone
The heathens dance for idols of gods unknown
The creatures, once revered, we abhor
Sarnath, across the lake, lies adored
An unexplained hate fills our veins
Our high priests will rule these barren plains
Today we attack under dawn's first rays
Vanguard of man will lead through the haze
Beneath the sun's incessant gaze
Ending the weak with triumphant praise
In our gardens thrive eternal spring
Statues and shrines adorn the green
Holy city, sworn to uphold god