The eagle born to those who pledged their lives and sacred honor was smiled upon by God and greed from chains and iron collar. He is held aloft on unity and by history revered; for preserving peace through strength his wings now reach across two hundred years. But for each of those one year more, God has smiled upon The Corps, From the Barbary Coast to the Eastern Sand, by sword, by gun, ore by bare hand. So it's been, and shall be weighed: though many are born, few are "made". Faithful Always, they shall remain dogs to loose when war is waged.
I am a Marine on the bench, I'm a killin' machine, with a need to bleed you when the light goes green, best believe, I'm in a zone to be, from my Yin to Yang to my Yang Tze. Put a grin on my chin, come to me, 'cuz I'll win, I'm one-of-a-kind and I'll bring death to the place you're about to be: another river of blood runnin' under my feet. Forged in the fire lit long ago, stand next to me, you'll never stand alone. I'm last to leave, but the first to go, Hard Corps is the only way I know. I feed on the fear of the devil inside of the enemy faces in my sights: aim with the hand, shoot with the mind, kill with a heart like arctic ice.