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So, the morning shall be red. This tribe of micro soft shall know fear at the rise of the sun.
My axe is sharp and moans for the taste of blood.
I have girded my loins with the skin of a linux and sing the battle song of my people.
Uga chaka, uga chaka, uga chaka, uga chaka, uga chaka, uga chaka, uga chaka, uga chaka, wooooo, ah, wooooo, ah, woooweee!
I shall taste the still beating heart of a programming drone before the sun rises to midday.
Even now the beserker fever flows through my veins wanting only blood and slaughter.
AH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!
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Only two defining forces have ever offered to die for you,
Jesus Christ and the American G. I.
One died for your soul, the other for your freedom
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