Unleashed, unchained, the animal fury explodes,
 Revenge and destruction are born this night,
 Raw rage seeks to destroy, none are safe in their abodes.
 The pain burns bright.

 The tidal wave of fire sweeps the land, 
 Nothing is left, no one is spared,
 Burnt charred earth is all that remains, 
 The masters now suffer, for putting liberty in chains. 

 Resistance only fans the flame,
 Hacked and hewed, slashed to a bloody pulp,
 The masters’ whips now cannot tame, 
 They and their kin now stare up faceless at the sky.

 The firestorm rages unabated, 
 Winter rains, nor violent cloud can assuage it,
 The masters’ citadel is close, it is quickly gated;
 all will die in the fury, such vain attempt 
 cannot hope to contain it.

 There is one left, only one,
 with clear eye and purposeful head,
 His ambition is fueled by the fire.
 Attack at dawn, while they’re still in bed,
 This is the only way, to create their funeral pyre. 

 Caesar’s legion comes flooding in,
 Wave after wave dousing the flames,
 Spartacus’ fury is drenched and spent,
 Cindered charred log, is all that he is left.

 Crassus wants an example to make, 
 The crosses are hoisted, each howling in pain,
 One hundred feet, for sixty miles,
 A bloody forest of human trees,
 Pathing the way to political gain.