| Stained he feels, as the day turns to night
|
| The man once strong, feared and bold, now just tired, weak and old
|
| Past is haunting his trail to the end
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| The walls laugh at his grief, the wraiths of past haunt him so deep
|
| He writes the words of regret
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| For every victim of his blade, for every selfish act of hate
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| Hours of terror, the screams of the innocent
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| Murders unordered, will follow him to the grave
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| Last days of this man unforgiven
|
| His heart starts to understand
|
| Honoring the dead is to live again
|
| But the one mans burden remains
|
| Heavens wear black, his mind won’t rest
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| The water he drinks runs rotten, the eyes of the other impale him
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| Left alone in the end! |
| Darkness surrounds him
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| To end his life as a warrior, he reaches the sword he used to hold
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| Last days of this man unforgiven
|
| His heart start to understand
|
| To honour the dead is to die aswell
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| Will the one man’s burden still remain
|
| In death?
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| Confused soul, The moment for final blow
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| The steal grows cold in the old mans hands, his thoughts are a raving storm |