A War Torn Land

In a war torn land, all the knights prepare.
A trumpet sounds, the castle walls are manned.
On the horizon they perceive deaths stare.
In a war torn land.

At the gate the enemy makes its demand;
For the proud king to leave his royal chair.
The knights refuse and make a great stand.

Their bodies are now in the vultures care,
Soon to be forgotten underneath the sand.
There is no peace, for it is rare,
In a war torn land.

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