• The sun hangs low in a blackened sky,
    pain is left where the heart runs dry.
    Broken swords and shattered minds,
    blood's drenched deep in the soul's that died.

    Tears stream down his broken face,
    cheel's turn pale as his heart starts to race.
    His hands are wrenched in the victum's vest,
    he stares at the body, pressed to his chest.
    Lifeless, stiff, and colder still.
    He holds back tears; they're against his will.

    Her lips are dry and pale as snow,
    she couldn't tell, he'd never know.
    Her heart yearned to be entwined with his,
    she never got that one first kiss.

    Pulsation stops as empty eyes close,
    he wished that he did not impose;
    on this girl's life,
    so soft and gentle.
    In this fight,
    so brutle and cruel.
    But he couldn't deny the laws that rule.
    And now she lay, dead and dry.
    His last thoughts wave her soul good-bye.

    And now he has a sword to his neck,
    ready to stab, his backs gone erect.
    Driving that blade deeper in so,
    he's ready now, willing to go.