In an ancient time when heroes filled our
Lands,
There came a time for war, blood had stained
The sands.
An army set in thousands with each prepared
To die,
The archers take their place and let their
Arrows fly.
Each and every day more had met their
End,
If only they were stronger, but they could
Not defend.
So here their bodies lie, they mark the point
Of death,
But still I take a life, and do so without
Regret.
