The hour cries at charming bell,
bringing forth a timely hell.
Of sorrow and madness, and many more;
leaving upon us a deathly score.
A death to live with, from a bloodshed wage;
from a child of anguish and solstice rage.
Leaving us in tears of what is to come;
leaving us in ruins and in glum.
No reason to fight on,
Not a reason to fight strong.
Its not our life to fight for.
Its not our time to fight a war.
It is our time to die and live again,
in a life, free of this worldly sin