Honour and Glory
For long dead Kings:
Their mantle is the same.
The head that turns,
The head that bites:
Sending children off to war.
The chase that lasts
And the fight which stalls
Become a boarded game.
The pawn may fall
To satisfy ends:
Left to unmerciful claws.
A struggle,
A lullaby.
The words that drift
On a Mother's cry:
I hear the drums
Beat out to war
The flesh of youth,
A gutted star
And blood willing to be spilled
For the gaping maw that's never filled.
The soul in eternal
Or so I have been told:
What lies the old men say.
The innocent may eat it up,
Pure as the new lain snow
But O how it makes me ache.
The promise of a brighter dawn,
Riches, Love, blind morality
Or warmth to keep the cold at bay
Are all they have
Once left for dead.
I weep for the Hero's sake.
A struggle,
A lullaby.
The words that drift
On a Mother's cry:
I hear the drums
Beat out to war
The flesh of youth,
A gutted star
And blood willing to be spilled
For the gaping maw that will never be filled.
What little comfort
There is to find in night
When all that's left is one.
No triumph comes
When castle worn
Upon the battle field,
Battered, stands alone:
Last refuge; Last tomb
For those men who Heaven won.
It seems a strange place
That makes ancient walls face
The cut of those who couldn't see to yield.
A struggle,
A lullaby.
The words that drift
On a Mother's cry:
I hear the drums
Beat out to war
The flesh of youth,
A gutted star
And blood willing to be spilled
For the gaping maw that will never be filled.
The horn echoes in the morning,
A flash of light on the hill:
Calls friend and foe inwards.
The sounds becomes comfort-
It's the silence that you'll fear,
The crashes remind you to live.
We want War to be silent,
But we forget the screams.
Dull swords cut the cords
Of lily white skin, Ruby
Drops flicker; drip down
Loving lips that whisper 'Forgive'.
A struggle,
A lullaby.
The words that drift
On a Mother's cry:
I hear the drums
Beat out to war
The flesh of youth,
A gutted star
And blood willing to be spilled
For the gaping maw that will never be filled.
Oh Gods, how that hunger will never be filled
By the blood, the blood, that the innocent spilled.