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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

The Ancient


Eld

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From the roar of the horde

comes the call to arms,

and the ancient doth sigh

for shattered sweet calm,

 

and their breasts do swell

aye hearts they beat fast,

as the ancient sighs again

for he knows of this past,

 

glory they shall cry

and havoc will reign,

the dogs will out

aye ‘tis war once again,

 

they’ll ne’er come home

for they die in vain,

for the glory of those

who should hide in shame,

 

now the ancient doth wait

as the sun leaves the sky,

and tears they trickle

from his saddened eyes,

 

oh the war it will come

and the young they will die,

without ever knowing

why the ancient did sigh.

 

 

Eld

Edited by Eld
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