In days of gray, my legs will lumber,
As time moves swiftly on, it does not break,
In my sleep, dreams will drive me wide awake
And the nightmares keep me deep in slumber.
Provoked by the simplest things, a clumber,
But saddened by the man who forsakes
It’s gentle heart, of broken love, it aches,
When the raging fire inside doth cumbers!
So then! We shall fight until the very end,
With sharpened dents and needle-piercing eyes –
Dare the mingy man cast us both aside?
At war, with enduringness, we defend
Our fragmented souls as we chastise,
Until your mangy skin is ossified.