Those mighty warriors,
Of ancient times,
Fought for their dignity,
In golden shrines,
Dark brooding loss,
Tears of salt and grime,
Nothing is left here,
Only mournful cries.
A lonely poet,
Lyre spread wide,
Sings grieving notes,
Of better times,
Crumbling buildings,
Souls left to find,
A thousand bodies,
Deprived of life.
Those mighty warriors,
All sent to die,
They couldn\'t protect them,
They failed to survive,
Fiery remains,
Peace nothing but a lie,
Crows gazing desolately,
Solemly ponder the skies.
A melancholic silence now haunts the empty streets,
Where life used to thrive, death has brought its sleep.