Glistening swords gleam throughout the night,
Shining silver slivers, beaming through the sky,
Beads of brandy fill the mugs of those lucky, and
Those men of vitality, trudging through torn
fields and those
Women of winterborne vigor that is never
Find ourselves fighting eachother, fighting for
Are we against ourselves, against what we
want and what we
Need and there is nothing we can do about it.
Men of malice and women of the wight, listen
Since sounds of sickness string softly through
Plains of passion and devotion, strengthened
By barbaric arguing and backstabbing,
Battles waged to bring terror beyond belief.
Look at the land, listen to the lords and ladies,
We see where we're heading, with no
Path to follow, no path to pick, and
Yet we yearn to yell, to learn, to
Continue to compete, to compress our
Emotions, everlasting never lying emotions.
Tears, never controllable, tightingly terrifying,
Roll down my face, racing from orbs, which see
But battles, battles that cannot be beaten, only
Fought, frighteningly I fear for my tears, but
They are only tears, tears tearing from my eyes,
Can't control my tears, but I never cry.