Stalingrad 42, became a living tomb Yes, human souls Profit for the prophet and the creatures who control 46 I got away, from the horrid thing that I did at Malmady And though I gained strength at the time Still they call for vengeance for the hatred of my crime Then I tried to drink myself to death 40 years went by, and drunken I was left And drunk I was when they caught me Gagged and bagged was right where they got me Taped to a chair feeling sore Knowing all the answers to the question I ignore They burned off my face with a propane torch Then they blew up my porch Then I fought against the USA, trapped in a trench till the bulldozers came Changed sides, and flew the bloody warthog Highway of death and the Day of the Dog And once again, I died alive, sent home in a box but somehow I survived Maybe you’ve got my face, I’m the demon of war Gwar–Wharghoul