Young minds wander
Of their future
Their most probable demise

Infecting their thoughts
They look to the skies

The sun rises
Rays of light flow
Across the frozen glade

A picture of beauty
Soon to be stained

The warlord gathers his army
On this day of uncertainty
Suddenly a voice breaks the calm
The warlord cries: "Men, to Arms!"

The soldiers reach the killing ground
where hate and pain are to be found
As the gods survey the field
the anxious soldiers grip their shields
The gods of war know no remorse
The only death is by the sword

Prepared for battle
Ready for war
Blood of men will spill
on to the land
for which they shall kill

Conflict commences
determination
fighting for the horde
A soldiers best friend
is his sword