The Warrior

He walks with pride this gallant man
His boots are stained with blood
He leaves behind with every step
The cries of pain and death

He has a job that he does well
With sorrow he succeeds
But goes on to light again
The flame that melts his soul

His sword’s a very mighty brush
Used to paint things red
With this he paints the homicides
Which occur without much thought

He rides a quite majestic steed
Which seems not to protest
The fact that he will gallop on
To fall amongst the weeds

Together they will scale cliffs
And walk along each shore
To play a game with other men
Who also hate to lose

The two of them will not survive
To see the sun come up
But in their hearts they know for sure
Their time is overdue

This gallant man who walks with pride
Whose boots are red with blood
Shall lay at rest beside his steed
Together in the weeds…