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We'll play it smart, no brash attack

We'll land (from) afar and close the circle again

So keep in mind the spirit here

We're liberators, not conquerors

The sun, its rise is gradual yet fills the sky

And we, alike the sun, will rise and dominate the land below

Kill, maim, burn!

I push, grind!

Here confusion reigns

Kill, maim, burn!

We crack, drive!

At Ad Decimum

Outside Carthage, my good friend John (the Armenian) - he smashed the Vandals and killed the king's brother

When Gelimer, the Vandal king, came on the scene, he fell to his knees

"My brother, he lies so broken, torn, and glassy-eyed"

The sad king, he stopped his army there to bury Ammatus

John pursued the king of (the) Vandals for days while I marched and took Carthage

Open arms greeted us at the gate

Tomorrow's sun will rise again on African Rome