| A full plate armour with no man nor soul inside
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| Corroding in the poisoned air within his shogunate
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| Yet, after ageless wait fire’s buckled from inside
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| By a man of arms reaching like serpents into empires at all sides
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| The divine winds carries him like an arrow to its goal
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| Unwavering, laughing but without comedy
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| In the face of enemies and bloody tragedy
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| Mounted on horse back to deliver the Bushido’s master stroke
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| Katana, Katana
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| When it leaves your side to reap
|
| Katana, Katana
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| Bringing rivers of blood to weep
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| The dew on the trees of Shiroyama
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| Has the color of your sun
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| Ancient wisdom springs from his noble court
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| A wheel of wheels partaking in millennial codes
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| The quill is easily, eagerly replaced
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| Around steel the grip is firmer
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| Your convictions mirrored in the blade
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| Katana, Katana
|
| When it leaves your side to reap
|
| Katana, Katana
|
| Bringing rivers of blood to weep
|
| The dew on the trees of Shiroyama
|
| Has the color of your sun
|
| Unsheathe the longer and the shorter swords
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| Embrace fate and see the light of another day
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| Your time here depens on those before and those to come
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| Honour then and become the wind that slowly sweeps the dunes |