Besedila: Bolt Thrower. Spearhead.

Spearhead marching onward,
Take my soul sacrificial offering.
Your initial strike taken by surprise,
Now left alone, condemned
by my pride,
Drained of all emotion - body now an
empty shell,
There's nothing left - you've taken all
away
[chorus]
Adrenaline flows,
Now filled with anger,
Just what will be the ourcome,
Mass confusion, tears my mind.
Spearhead - No victory sublime,
Another fallen victim - I will
not beg to you,
Spearhead - to which I cannot hold
With clear perception my
destiny unfolds.
I look to the reflection, fail to
recognise what's seen
A figure clothed in hatred, I pray that
this cannot be,
Faced by this total stranger - aware
of your creation
No vision of the former self-
Controlled by your instruction,
Onward you advance, left in a
mindless trance.
Hypnotised by you will, desire
is now instilled,
Now staring face to face, your eyes
filled with hate,
Held by your contempt, both by
weakness and by strength.
[repeat chorus]