We'll play it smart, no brash attack
We'll land (from) afar and close the circle again
So keep in mind the spirit here
We're liberators, not conquerors
The sun, its rise is gradual yet fills the sky
And we, alike the sun, will rise and dominate the land below
Kill, maim, burn!
I push, grind!
Here confusion reigns
Kill, maim, burn!
We crack, drive!
At Ad Decimum
Outside Carthage,
my good friend John (the Armenian) - he
smashed the Vandals and killed the king's brother
When Gelimer, the Vandal king, came on the scene, he fell to his knees
"My brother, he lies so broken, torn, and glassy-eyed"
The sad king, he stopped his army there to bury Ammatus
John pursued the king of (the) Vandals
for days while I marched and took Carthage
Open arms greeted us at the gate
Tomorrow's sun will rise again on African Rome
