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Battle |
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Battle |
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When the lust for
battle takes over you're mind, to love and kindness you are blind. Rush into the sunset, swords and halberds drawn, thousands of good men soon will be gone. On valiant archers, there is blood to shed, it is not your own death, but a loss to dread. Soon blades plunge through armor, of many men assembled, soldier and farmer. Alas, there is no end to war, the victor leaves in search for more. |
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This page was last updated on June 05, 2002 by the KIWW Webmaster. |
