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Midnight wind stalks the woods
We walk huddled 'neath our hoods.
On our wind-whipped mantle lights the rain,
We continue despite stories of slain.
Our path collides with living undead,
Our clothes and blades stained dirty red.
We suffer, sick and ill;
Our chance of survival is about nil.
The story unfolds
Our fortune beholds:
We travel deeper and older,
Deep into the eyes of a beholder.
We fight brave and true.
With blades old and new,
We live through Hades and flame.
We injure, hurt and maim.
Live for freedom,
Speak for dumb.
The way of our lord:
is the way of the sword.
We stand proud and victorious in our days,
We walk with friends showered in praise
Forever to yonder - -
For later we'll ponder.
To the meaning of life: We live.
An amount of thought : We give.
Our battles not ending,
Our wills never bending.
We are part of a game,
In your reality, lame.
The imagination of one,
A toy from which to make fun.
A pawn in the game of chess.
We are but your mess.
Experience is our boon.
And we , the unlucky loon.
The people who entertain,
The creation of an idle brain.
Our life is over when fun is gone.
We live in your dreams until the morning dawn.