how heavy this axe

so many men have fallen, so many more must die, cut down like wheat beneath a scythe, and though our limbs may weary, of ripping, slashing, cleaving blows, we face an endless host of foes, how heavy this axe, burden carried from birth, wrought in stygian visions, by the gods of the earth, upon the hallowed mountain, the gods convene, to mourn the death of our ancient queen, keepers of sacred fire, awaken from your sleep, drink from the cup of memory, how heavy this axe, burden carried from birth, wrought in stygian visions, by the gods of the earth