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The WarDogs cry "FOUL!",

as the bullets fly to and fro.

Every head is bowed and

tucked in nice and low.



Prayers issue forth from

tongues on opposing sides.

Some will pray to live,

while others pray to die.



Orders will fly forward from

the Alpha of the pack.

As our tribes show great courage

with the mounting of each attack.



Soldiers with the blades of Mars,

now make their blood pacts.

Well aware the blood they'll spill

was declared by contract.



And on the WarDogs cry,

on into the night.

Once youngsters at our knees,

now soldiers ready for the fight.



Now battle-tested veterans

referenced in our Anthem's score,

will return to us in victory,

or die on distant shores.



Cry on WarDogs, cry on

and lament those you have lost.

To excorcise your sorrows

and release them to the cross.



It is in these words I've written

that I seek to release the venom

by puting pen tip to the page

and puting indigo to plenum.



And as the WarDogs cry

we pray each and every night

that God brings ending to the crys

and victory to this fight.



As the WarDogs cry...