The ballad of Arkma
It goes descendent and prison for good,
Where there’s no existence, not noon.
For the former dreams are not broken,
Only kept in a chest never opened.
She’s the sweetest thing you ever had,
Yet she’s the one you never admire.
For what’s love between Warriors and Angels?
We were witness of such madness,
Such reckless and unforgiving event,
When while twilight she embrace man,
Showing her how condemn laid his heart
Again she felt for the lovely requiem.
He only brought destruction to his kind,
With every feather falling from the sky,
His mothers; fathers and brothers were judged,
For never ever finish his self-struggled.
And so this ode will be song for ages to come,
For the legacy not to forget where they go,
So this treachery will never be forgotten,
Every mother, father, brother, will grow rotten,
He marked his destiny long before the last dawn,
Where all the ties turned to the sound of this song,
When angels found kindness broken into pieces,
When the feathered axe lost its sharp in swings and glimpses,
For he not only mucked from the found of her love,
That was the day we lost the path of privileged sons.
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