War Kingdom
One nation
Two crowned Kings
War and peace
Three languages
A million enemies
One that alone stands
With no signals they strike
Snatching the treasures of the other two meek languages
But with sad eyes as one uncomforted,
They fold their arms and weep
And wearied with sorrow and moaning
For sins no bleating victim can atone,
They seek help abroad
And sweet long lips with tears and kisses fed.
Black were their garments
With faces red as stone
And at the feet of this nation was marked a broken stone
Which sent up dove-like lilies
And terror screams for weeks
Now at their sight, my heart bleeds lit up in flames
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