There was a thick mist over the battlefront. O!
how I came riding and bleeding to your door
My love for you is so immense! I don’t know,
if this stuff was fated for folklore!
And I know my cavalry and my score
I am defeated, but loyal and more
Still, I was proud of the tatters that I wore
and called out your name in the deafening roar!
The clouds have all fallen on the fields
denying all the crops that could have yield
But my harvest is simply the love I wield
in the heart that is both soft and steel
And I march, much starved, all over the skies
with the pantheon all shining in my eyes
And by them, I swear my love never dies
Death only makes this fire rearise!
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