Across a valley of broken bones.
On either side, a mountain high
Of gold and jewels piled to the sky,
And in between, dark fire burns
Through glowing cracks within the stones.
---
The harp sings out a metallic clash
As stinging swords and bows and spears
Drown the dead valley in blood and tears
With no great boom, with no bright flash.
To honor those who pass away
Into the darkness on this black day.
---
The twilight flows in a blood-red swell;
Upon each mountain rings a bell,
Not of sorrow but of vengeance soon,
As battles rage beneath the moon,
Soon hidden by a wall of clouds
Covering the field in misty shrouds.
---
All through the night the trumpets blare,
And on both sides a trickle small
Of gold and jewels begins to fall,
Flowing fast across the mountains’ face
Vanishing in the valley without a trace
As more cries of agony fill the air.
---
As the sun attempts to climb
Over a jagged and rocky skyline
A blanket of clouds still obscures its gaze
Across the valley corrupted by crime.
The sounds of war and death combine,
So blinded and deafened, the valley does blaze.
---
The trickle of gold throughout the night
Grows to be a flowing stream,
But as the battle rages on
Fighting past the break of dawn
An avalanche of gold so bright
Tumbles into the valley’s scream.
---
At last, as the sun approaches its peak
The clouds are finally torn apart,
And rays of light illuminate
The aftermath of vicious hate.
With empty mind, and soul, and heart,
The survivors released a broken shriek.
---
The winds of war blow cold
Across a desert of broken bones.
On either side, those mountains high
Have disappeared beneath the sky.
Across the wasteland, dark fire burns
Through glowing cracks within the stones.
