Arrow Of Feathers With Different Colours
A young bow man aimed to the blank sky,
Strafing an arrow so far, so high,
An arrow with white feathers designed in its nock,
An arrow with its aim only to a rock.
The bow man grows and so his target soars,
Strafing an arrow with exact force,
An arrow with blue feathers designed in its cock,
With the destiny to a hawk's flock.
And so time has passed,
toghether with peace that didn't last,
the bow man wears a robe of steel,
and so his targets stands still,
Strafing an arrow with black feathers,
and its destiny only blood led.