Like a black puddle they form,
      Up
From the ground
Dirty ripples, dirty dirty ripples

Squish squash, but march they go
Leave the comrades, march march march march march march on

Like a black plague, they spread across the sands,
In bands of loyal regiments
They’ve taken the hill! In the bread! Win the lead!
The spill of red blood, feeding on strands of stained grass;
      Do not intervene—
The blood will soon become a brand new breed.