when we were young and kind
we used to hear the bards singing tales
of past champions and ruthless campaigns
i remember playing in the forest with wooden swords
and singing ancients battle hymns
but as we grew old,
big enough to wield a sword
it was nothing like the stories
we've been told
did the old bards even knew, of the ecstasy of war
of endless fights with no result
did they know that after the thousand heroes we have slayed
we will have to face a thousand more
and no one told us of the beauty of the spells
a taste of the power of the gods themselves
and the way it corrupt the hearts of men
how can u tell good from bad
when both of them wants u dead
and the harder u pursuer peace
the more people u need to slay
and every battlefield looks the same
Ares make sure this will never end