In the world's dim past
On an anvil, the first would be forged
And in its life
Many a man would be torn

From a tome came instructions clear
For steel to take a shape
99 of its pages damned
But once in hand, feel its weight

Instrument of descruction
Under fire and brimstone, its figure roars
The arm of slaughter, given to war
First af a legacy, put to the sword

In a moment
Its frame bears the mark of the trade
Time of misfortune
Its blade would be broken in twain

Forged on the altar
White-hot, its pieces are made
Fused back together
And prepare to rise once again

Grasped tight in defiance
And sharper than ever before
The end in violence
Metal will stand evermore

Instrument of descruction
Under fire and brimstone, its figure roars
The arm of slaughter, given to war
First af a legacy, put to the sword

The blade of metal will stand for evermore