I used to own a battle song.
It would sing fast and long.
My blade would tear through flesh and bone.
Telling me how and where to roam.
I was a blade for right alone.
Wading through the bloody loam
The greatest might was my own
So many wrongs did I right
that blood would cloud my every sight .
A claymore was my one true friend
It was with me to the end.
Till as I went in to battle against the king
An archer let off one arrow.
And I was slain not by sword but bow
Now I lay here waiting
To see my last and one true king.
A warriors blood was once my own.
Now it belongs to hill and loam
Soon I will have passed on
Into deaths final song.
