Built that someday they would come,

their war and their solution done.

Not by rail or cattle truck,

not by chance and not by luck.

 

By design of no return

In Blood & Soil their New World earned.

Crushed and killed that they might rise

to rule beyond cold baltic skies.

 

When enemies invert their roles,

what’s lost and won is more than souls.

With so much gone not one thing gained

that on their blitzkrieg’d shores remained.

 

Drones and tanks and Zyklon B

raised two cities by a sea,

One to never serve a guest,

Another, where only dead men rest.