By Sword, By Blade

youthful oblivion drifting away

like the leaves of a palm by summer’s day

as hazy sunsets grow dark each night

and the breezes cease to take off flight

misfit, traveler, what shall He be?

as though we were individually free

a name forgotten to the world, unknown,

and He wanders off, again, alone

cry a river’s tears before the dawn

for hope is lost, and reason is gone

if ever soundly we slept in a shade,

we fought to death, by sword, by blade

’twas just a dream, now it is time

to wash your hands of bloody crime

dear friends, return back home again

and morrow’s day shall greet you then