No place is safe, no corner seems secure;
They're coming for me. Listen, you can hear
The distant drums that paralyze with fear
My comrades, and indeed myself. We were
Once mighty, and our fame could well ensure
That no one ever dared attack us here.
But now that very fame has cost us dear
For we are weak, yet nomads still prefer
To raid the promise of our better days
In hope of riches we no longer hold.
Our former glory makes attackers bold
While present weakness will not let us faze
Their least assault. And therefore go thy ways
Before like us thy life is bought and sold.
No comments:
Post a Comment