Crusade

Riding hard, on a field of flame,
God's knights, each to religion a slave,
Piously and angrily running through men,
While maiming poor muslims, chanting amen.

God is their life, and death is their goal,
Destroy all heathens, burn them all whole.
Riding hard, on fields of blood,
Like biblical plagues, they come like a flood.

For God's wrath, they live and also god's might,
The evil pagans, with spears they shall smithe,
The holy word, they bring forth in the wild,
Spareing not pagans, neither elder, nor child.

Sieging the infidels, and their unholy town,
To bring down the pasha, and his cursed crown,
Their justice isn't swift, and fair,
It is more to torture, and death, that they swear.

Gleaming in the bloodfilled lands, of the east,
Their white armours, make each one look like a beast.
Galloping hardly, through fields of death,
Their God is their oath, and each of their breath.

Their swords are bloodstained, and worn out,
Eventhough they cut into muslim flesh, withou a doubt.
Regarded as holy, just and brave,
Their true nature, is that of a lunatics rave.

Religion, has made doubtfull souls, just,
As the pope, does his wishes to them entrust.
To partake in the righteousness of the Lord,
And enforce it, with a bloody, worn out sword.