His conscience told his end was near,
Stop this war but he didn't cared.
He yearns to fight more,
he wants to survive this endless war.
Used to such blood and gore,
slaughtering men he marched forth.
Upon the tor, through his castle's door,
He saw the most dreadful sight of all.
A callous man on a buffalo who rests,
A rope lasso in hand was his new guest.
He ran to priests for some words wise,
They augured that death was in sight.
Upon his horse now he sat,
Apprehended he lashed its back.
The horse like his faithful man,
took him to a far off land.
Speck of hope is what remains,
All the colours have turned pale.
Amidst the woods now lay this man,
Standing up is in vain.
Never listened when there was time,
Never prayed to the light divine.
Continued his atrocities and cruel deeds,
Rache is now what his soul seeks.
His own sins now knock at his door,
Won't leave him in peace his scarred soul.
Help him close his eyes he say,
Wants to escape death, is there any way?