The arms are rising on the sunrise
The murderers sing with pride their hymn
Corpses lie on streets, they rot and stinks
Victims of this soldiers, the servants of Caine
Nation of killers, soldiers of the ploughman (x2)
With pride, they use the weapons
Cult to their master, insanity is their law
Show their honour, spilling the men's blood
Holy patriots of the killers nation
Nation of killers, soldiers of the ploughman (x2)
A gun, pointing on your forehead
A knife, piercing without mercy your flesh
A rope, taking your life, and your breath
A grave, next place for your existence dead