I’m going on the final quest
Out to the final resting place
Where sentries lay their head to rest
In golden coffins trimmed with lace.
I speak of the world outside the earth
Where mist walks with as shadows do;
The place where those of true good worth
Are lauded by God’s chosen few.
South of heaven, north of hell,
A little west of purgatory;
A cloudy range made strong and well
By fine Demeter’s glory.
I’ve earned this wispy resting ground
By the battle I endure;
To come out the conquering hero, bound
To karma, soft and pure.
I ride out to where the harvest yields
With my haloed head held high--
Forth on to Elysium fields
Where warriors go to die.
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