Amidst molten candles and sundown prayers
Amidst war trophies and fires of peace
Lived book children who knew no battles
Anguishing their minor catastrophies

Children always complain
of their age and their lot
And we fought until slain
And schemed mortal plots.

And our clothes were patched
By our mothers with haste
We then swallowed books
Getting drunk of the taste

Hair stuck to our sweaty foreheads
Phrases sucking air right out from our guts
And our heads spun by combat’s fragrance
From the yellowed pages descending on us.

And attempted to reach
We who knew battles not
With a war-calling screech
Giving it all we got

Secret orders were passed
Borders suddenly sprang
What it means to attack
And war chariots clang

In the boiling pots of past battles and wars
So much food for our tiny brains
To the roles of betrayers and cowards
In our childish games were our enemies named

Villian’s footprints weren’t even
Allowed to cool
And to beautiful women
We promised amour

Having calmed our friends worries
And our families loved
To the roles of the heroes
We lead ourselves on

But we can’t always run to the dreams in our heads
Short the century for fun - mostly pain lives on
Try to pry open the palms of the dead
And receive a weapon from their strained arms

And distinuish, acquired
A sword from the hearth
Put on metal attire
What’s it worth? What’s it worth?

Find out - you a coward?
Or one chosen by fate
See a glimpse of your power
Give real battles a taste.

And when near by falls your wounded friend
And the world hears the howl coming from you
And when you’re left skinless - this isn’t pretend
Because they’ve killed him and not you

You will see, you will know,
Find out from within
From the grin that is shown
That is deaths scowling grin

Lies and Evil - look and find
How their faces are harsh
And always behind
Ravens, tombstones and marsh.

If you cleared your way with your father’s sword
And your tears had dried leaving nothing but salt
If in heat of the battle found out what’s what
Means your read useful books when you were only small.

If the meat from a blade
You did not eat a bite
And your arms folded - stayed
And looked down from a height

Entered not into battle
Against butcher and scythe
Means that life proved your mettle
You had nothing to give.