The branches broke, a darkning tree,
Hangs on a rope, a dead man three.
Their carcus burnt, laid to flames.
Decapited heads, will to blame.
The pride of death, betrayed the vow.
The crying breath, eternally now.
Not a tear, or watered cry, came fom any passers by.
But hidden laughter, from their minds, nor a sigh to them remind.
For violence be atrocity, and death the souls reply.