the warren is empty tonight blood spills on toiled ground fur will hang in ragged clumps upon the hedgerows upon the hedgerows peace is lost to us now a fettered ideal they are the warmongers and they will make our laws a paw will fall upon the weak they will mark the day in death we make our charge our last lament in death we make our charge our last lament peace is lost to us now a fettered ideal to turn the tide in our numbers the final will fall they have our fear we have the will a battle cry will sound out shrill against the night and with it our retribution the warren is empty the warren is empty the warren is empty the warren is empty the warren is empty the warren is empty the warren is empty