Five years away from the place you call home
Off fighting in the Holy Land, loyal to your King
You arrive back, hands grazing the beige wheat dancing the wind
Upon your return, you expect everything to be the same
The way it was before you left for The Crusades
The place you once called home
Is no longer home
People are poorer
Taxes are higher
People are scared
You seek justice for the innocents
You become an outlaw
A hero of the people
The man with a bow and arrows