The Men of the Spill

You get that special kind of crimson sensation

Underneath the skies of your own making

Rest easy as you look to your only true nation

Remember the bond of blood; there's no forsaking

There's a choice that comes for some in the dark

For those that stand in the middle of the fear

They stare into the madness of the hellhounds' bark

And do it with the bloody horrors viewed in the rear

The choice is beyond those lesser men

To pick up the mantle and run with the devil

With a wipe of the blade off comes blood again

There's no such thing in the battle as being level

It comes from deep within the darker part of your heart

We'll never know, from what we were turned into this thing

All the men of the spill have ever known was when it was time to start

This wasn't the life we chose, but we'll never dare say it was boring

Do you sell your soul for the reaper's blessings in this life

Live by the credo that comes from wielding the weapons of the spill

Will you take the patch as part of carrying the gun and the knife

And know that sometimes, it's all a part of God's will

It's the price some pay for stepping up to let the devil inside

It comes with the deepest and most costly toll

Once he's in, you can't ever run and hide

But don't worry, you're playing your role

For them, they were chosen ones from their bloody beginnings

The folks around took one look, and they knew

These special ones would do the sinning

And spare the souls of me and you

Ahhh, the devil inside the men of the spill