[identity profile] duathir.livejournal.com
Courage Knows No Bounds

I looked across the battlefield,
Blood seeping from my wounds;
My comrades, they did never yield,
For courage knows no bounds;
And yet, I thought as I stood there,
Of all that it had cost;
For what we gained, it seemed not fair,
For all that we had lost.

They spoke of honour, faith and pride,
defending for our home;
Through honour all my friends have died,
their faith left me alone;
We fought for greed, we fought for fame,
we killed too much to tell;
The devil and God were both the same,
we worshipped only Hell.

We fought it seemed for a thousand years,
a million nights and days,
Sharing one laugh with a hundred tears,
seeing clearly through a haze;
Then came that day, I know not when,
beneath a blood red sun,
Atop a pile of dying men,
they said that we had won.

Another tract of land is all
the territory gained,
Will that ever pay for all
the lives here lost or maimed?
Bodies lying all around,
blood bathing them in red,
Their white eyes staring at the sun,
these, the countless dead?

I looked across the battlefield,
blood seeping from my wounds;
My comrades, they did never yield,
for courage knows no bounds.

by Heather Alexander

http://youtu.be/0YgNvnBvXCI

[identity profile] duathir.livejournal.com
Don't Call My Name In Battle

Don't call my name in battle - it's not wise
Do not distract me when you see a new soul in these eyes.
For when the War God fills this flesh I wear,
I am no more your friend, I am the spirit of the bear.

Don't call my name in battle - stand away
For I will never hear you, but another creature may.
It never sees a friend, but only foes -
Just count the bodies flying where this taken body goes.

Don't call my name in battle - wait the time
Until I fall and rise again, with eyes you know are mine.
And then perhaps we'll rest and talk of home
But you'll not be surprised to see how much I walk alone.

by Heather Alexander
[identity profile] duathir.livejournal.com
March of Cambreadth

Axes flash, broadsword swing,
Shining armour's piercing ring
Horses run with polished shield,
Fight those bastards till they yield
Midnight mare and blood red roan,
Fight to keep this land Your own
Sound the horn and call the cry,
How many of them can we make die?

Follow orders as you're told,
Make their yellow blood run cold
Fight until you die or drop,
A force like ours is hard to stop
Close your mind to stress and pain,
Fight till you're no longer sane
Let not one damn cur pass by,
How many of them can we make die?

Guard your women and children well,
Send these bastards back to Hell,
We'll teach them the ways of war,
They won't come here any more,
Use your shield and use your head,
Fight till every one is dead
Raise the flag up to the sky,
How many of them can we make die?

Dawn has broke, the time has come,
Move your feet to a marching drum,
We'll win the war and pay the toll,
Fight as one in heart and soul,
Midnight mare and blood red roan,
Fight to keep this land your own,
Sound the horn and call the cry,
How many of them can we make die?

by Heather Alexander

http://youtu.be/eCrnF844_ww
[identity profile] duathir.livejournal.com

Wooden Toy Sword

Oh a father and son, they were bonded as one
But the heart of the family soon tore
For out sounded the call, to one and to all
That the king and the land went to war

Oh, the laddie he cried, but his father denied
To bring the young soldier along
"For your might I award this wooden toy sword
And I charge you to carry this song"

Won't you come and wait for me at the gate
With your wooden toy sword in your hand?
It is then I will come with the beat of the drum
From defending my king and my land


So the father, he taught his son as he ought
To defend both his hearth and his home
But soon came the day that his Da went away
Across the wild horses of foam

He practiced 'til night with skill and with might
To learn how to fight for a king
and he'd shun other boys with their useless new toys
And he'd whistle a song and he'd sing

Oh the years slowly turned, broad shoulders grew burned
Fine hair lengthened to a proud mane
In the middle of spring with a fell practice swing
The toy sword had broken in twain

The break caused him harm, as the wood pierced his arm
And the blood flowed quite free to the ground
As his vision grew dim the wind mourned out a hymn
That echoed these words round and round

Though the day had grown late the young man went to wait
And unsteadily gazed at the sky
As the red sun sank low, it soon caused him to know
That his last day of childhood would die

The stars swam across the night sky with his loss
And his father appeared in that sea
And the drum of his heart nearly broke him apart
As he fell to the ground on one knee

For he'd come to wait for his Da at the gate
With a broken toy sword in his hand
From beyond death he'll come
With the beat of the drum
To honor his son and his land


by Heather Alexander

http://youtu.be/eTocIuWA2mo

[identity profile] duathir.livejournal.com

In'shallah

I can't cleanse my soul
Of this battle-won and blood dried stain
For to cross this bridge I must pay its toll
With the price of pain
I must take what comes
And defy despair's dark evil wraith
For until I hear of my enemy's drums
I must keep my faith

Will it all be worth it?
Will it all mean more than just for me?
Will it come to form a more perfect pattern
Than the single line that I now weave?


I've known sacrifice
I have grown beyond my want and need
I have learned to live on what will suffice
And controlled my greed
Yet I suffer fear
And the dangerous path of truth I seek
I have spoken more than I wish to hear
And have found it weak

I must turn away
Though I've put in motion words and laws
For I find this price much too high to pay
For a useless cause
Yet my footsteps falter
And my body's held by hands above
And within I find a new strength to alter
For a greater love

I'm only just one man
(In'shallah)
But if Allah wills it
It will be

by Heather Alexander

[identity profile] duathir.livejournal.com

What I Got As A Soldier

His Lordship called me away from the plough
To fight some war, never mind where or how,
I did as he bade, and just look at me now,
That's what I got as a soldier.

I wore his colors and learned how to fight,
To follow orders by day and by night,
And never to ask was it wise, was it right,
That was the job for a soldier.

I marched and slew as His Lordship did bid,
How loud he lied while the horrors were hid,
But I could have cried for the things that we did,
That was the lot of a soldier.

We slaughtered women, children and men,
Stole the cattle from every pen,
Then turned us around and we did it again,
That was the work for a soldier.

And when we met with a well-matched foe,
We hacked and killed and were slaughtered so
That just who won, we barely could know,
That was the fate of a soldier.

Our Lord wasted lives on every fight,
On fools' mistakes or the weather not right,
But all that we won he claimed by right,
That's good enough for a soldier.

We did our work for a penny a day,
His Lordship groaned at the cost of our pay,
So when we were wounded he'd throw us away,
That was the thanks for a soldier.

So now I wander a-begging my bread
With one leg gone and the other arm dead,
Be wise, young lads, better stay home instead,
Don't take the road of a soldier.

by Heather Alexander

[identity profile] duathir.livejournal.com
Courage Knows No Bounds

I looked across the battlefield,
Blood seeping from my wounds;
My comrades, they did never yield,
For courage knows no bounds;
And yet, I thought as I stood there,
Of all that it had cost;
For what we gained, it seemed not fair,
For all that we had lost.

They spoke of honour, faith and pride,
defending for our home;
Through honour all my friends have died,
their faith left me alone;
We fought for greed, we fought for fame,
we killed too much to tell;
The devil and God were both the same,
we worshipped only Hell.

We fought it seemed for a thousand years,
a million nights and days,
Sharing one laugh with a hundred tears,
seeing clearly through a haze;
Then came that day, I know not when,
beneath a blood red sun,
Atop a pile of dying men,
they said that we had won.

Another tract of land is all
the territory gained,
Will that ever pay for all
the lives here lost or maimed?
Bodies lying all around,
blood bathing them in red,
Their white eyes staring at the sun,
these, the countless dead?

I looked across the battlefield,
blood seeping from my wounds;
My comrades, they did never yield,
for courage knows no bounds.

~Heather Alexander

http://youtu.be/0YgNvnBvXCI

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