Hounds Of Hell

Enemies and their allies put on a chase
With our noses all up in their asses to ensure their haste
Like wild dogs, not a stride goes to waste
Giving them no time to camp, sleep, or give food a taste

Tails to mouths like hounds circling their prey
Three hundred and sixty degrees of death, that's our way
Hounds and Great Danes have the bears retreating to their cave
With no more than witches and clubs, they attempted to display their rage

We came with aggression, wielding swords and shields
Our chants enraged and excited them drawing them out onto the battlefield
All brothers in arms touched their medallions drawing power from there
All of the other clans trust in their witches, a bear with the heart of a hare

But it is our custom, ass to mouth, we engaged with a clash
A weary and cornered dog, as clubs and shields smashed
Secretly they tucked away smaller swords and wielded daggers
We rolled back as if on wheels, regrouping as comrades staggered

With this new knowledge, three hounds giving chase came into full display
Our swords and shields now made sure that the short swords were parried
Their witches' magic was up as we claimed the battlefield
No more than cheerleaders on the sideline trying to break our shield

Hahaha, three hundred and sixty degrees are the rules of this fox run
We are committed to the hacking and dismemberment until we have won
Club arms severed with no chance of rising, and the disembowled can't be save
The battlefield resembles a dance floor during a rave

Ancient runes holds the circle and ensures six feet are always on the ground
Our destiny is promised, as we attack on the backs of our hounds
With three hounds encircled on our banners and medallions we continue to advance
With ancient chants of our elders, we warn our enemies of their very last chance