Walk Away Or Remain Here To Last

They told me stories about this field They said that even facing defeat the warriors would not yield The meadow bank and the low land grass Where men with swords faced up to the attack Where green soon turned to a crimson ooze Where birdsong was lost in the screaming music The field holds an echo to a lost time in the past Where men would kill or die, walk away or remain here to last A still fear is in the air, a wet sludge on dry grass! Out of the corner of your eye, a glimpse of heavily armed men on horseback! Even now as the moon light sees the end of a day Sounds are still heard, blades still scrape, thunder charges through the ground where dead spirits lay.