Smash on sight.

Oncoming Doom, both calm and fury
Over wreckage and corpse, hurry, hurry
To leaden chest, to unfold the throat
No teabag follows, ours isn't to gloat
Prone in gore, the enemy damns
The howling horde at Death's commands
Battlefield giveth and taketh, such is the game
Forgive the men but remember the name
The rip of bong, the flame of pipe
SmokeHounds forever - smash on sight.