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 The Unfairness Of Angels

dreamweavertheunfairnessofangels
Defending the Faith




I look back at my rain trodden footprints
From my mud stained leather boots
I hear the clattering of my sword against my chain mail
The sword stained with blood, a sword that has served
An infrastructure, which I get paid to uphold
I do not fight for my faith but for the gold coins
I feel the weight of my purse like my guilt on my shoulders
The steam from my mouths breathe, is a vapour so foul
Like my soul, dark twisted and broken
And they say he made us in his own image
My God who I kill for must be a mercenary
I look at this Red Cross tunic I wear
And learn to hate that which I have become
Slain children and woman, old and young
Looked death in the eyes and past others over to him
God forgives murder in battle
And as I return back to the village from once all this started
I see the priest sit on his golden throne
As the serfs plough their rotting lands
And I come back a hero
For defending the faith







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