Enter the berserker
returning from the icy depths of skin and bone
Seeking chaos in the crowds
Causing madness in the young souls
who breathe the gunner's smoke

Red eyes gaze upon a land barren and thirsty
Lost beneath his fetid breath
Wandering along the blade of conquest
with Napoleonic armies
of unknown origins

Hands of stone
Bony yellowed fingers of death
riddled with the blood of foolish zealots
Praying to their false gods
as they fall before his hand

Swollen feet in boots that speak of oceans
casting giant foot prints in curious new directions
Trampling their armies
Grinding the foolish politician
into the dust beneath his feet