Winds aroar,
Thy wind hath blown.
Bullets soar,
So does the scream?

"Skrrrr!"
A man,
With his wine!
Delicate craniums!
Such fine rubies!

A man,
With his greyful clothes,
Hath bloomed orange!
His hands, feast!
His moral? Aforward!

Amongst them, he joyed!
Amongst them, he savor!
"Yer craniums!"
"Yer blood!"
"For him!"

Savor en legion,
Ashes for ashes.
Awalk o' rapid musketeer,
And verily, for thy blood!