| Above the lake of fire there’s fighting in the air
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| An invasion of the warriors of love
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| Attempting a re-conquest of the realm down below
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| They should know they do not stand a chance because
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| Feathers burn, leather doesn’t
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| Without their wings they fall
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| Screaming they fall into the lake
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| We will get them all
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| Feathers burn, leather doesn’t
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| Without their wings they fall
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| Their bodies will be collected by us
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| And the cook pot is ready to boil
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| This war began before all time we will never serve
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| And bow to the Meek and the Mild
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| But they keep on trying and they keep on dying
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| And soon we will feast upon holy flesh |