A sword, a sheath, a sheild, the tools of a warrior
A brave soul that doesn't know if he'll survive the battle
But he spends his life killing others, and doing so, with a little joy
And when the day is done all he does is eat, ready his sword, and sleeps and dreams
Dreamed fantasies of the absence of his sword, of feilds thirst not quenched by blood.
He does not know why he kills and conquers
But it is all he knows, it's all he has every been taught
So he kills and kills all his life and at the end what?
What is left?
A broken body and a shattered soul