CommieBastard
16th October 2001, 20:32
Cometh He, one of four,
the Horseman Naméd War,
Blackened Clouds gather round,
carrion beasts do surround,
The beat of drum and boom of horn,
peacepacts now forever torn.
Children weep in the streets,
Golden age, a memory which fleets,
The steady beat of marching men,
off to meet doom beyond their ken,
shall we never learn from these foolish acts?
or of these events ever know true facts?
In the field the corpse lies,
covered over with blood and flies,
the fates of men now decided,
those who called for peace no longer derided,
we wonder now at what we've lost,
but of war we never learn it's cost.
the Horseman Naméd War,
Blackened Clouds gather round,
carrion beasts do surround,
The beat of drum and boom of horn,
peacepacts now forever torn.
Children weep in the streets,
Golden age, a memory which fleets,
The steady beat of marching men,
off to meet doom beyond their ken,
shall we never learn from these foolish acts?
or of these events ever know true facts?
In the field the corpse lies,
covered over with blood and flies,
the fates of men now decided,
those who called for peace no longer derided,
we wonder now at what we've lost,
but of war we never learn it's cost.