Arrows tipped with the bill
The Enemies will fall at his hands at his will

Outside their sanctums with a vengeful gaze

The Lion in their hearts roared for their presence

IT ROARED for their presence where we stood
instead of their presence in their hoods

The green hoods with their black hearts

trapped behind a hostile battlement

where few leave psychologically in whole but in pieces

anger hidden within all their hearts and it could never pull a freeman

they called for an end to the childish games

They call out for an end to the ravage pain


They brabble all they want but only move from centimeters to inches

They craved for a fresh sunbeam to make at least one gleam

But they couldn't hear the The Wilhelm Scream