O towhee, you are ready
With your ruby eyes, ever wrathful
Glittering in your black hood
Rusty swords belted to your flanks
Your black cape thrown back
Pierced with white holes
Scars of battles past
Your rasping jeer cries cries havoc through the canes
This is war, not clash of high ideals
But the real thing, endless, pitiless
A struggle for the smallest gains
A few yards of thorny ground
The only home you have
The only thing worth fighting for