A Warlord's Swansong

A Warlord's Swansong

High in a tower, far away from daily life
And old man sits on his throne
The room is dim and you can hardly hear
The city that spreads down below
Dreams of faded glory haunt his memory
The vultures are waiting, he knows it too well!
And mournful he wishes he could return
To days of youth and to shatter the world...

His aching limbs remind him
There's a price that's soon to pay
And this time his power won't save him
From the reaper who's after his soul...

Oh, how hard it is for a warrior
To bear the spears Old Age throws
When the way to death - which he never feared!
Is paved with misery and pain...
Looking back, he doth ask himself:
"Whom did I do all this for?"
His own sons did fall long years ago
Sacrificed on his path to fame...

Remembrance leaves him smiling
For moments the warmth of life hath burned
But then his knowledge doth return
There's a price that's soon to pay...

Uneasy he shifts around on his throne
Death's icy grip, it's ever so near!
What no one suspects, he doth know it well
For the Horned One's assistance he'll soon have to pay
In early days of mindless youth
Light-hearted was his oath
And though he did serve very well
He's still afraid to go...

For no longer can he set the rules
He's soon to play the Master's game
And that thought leaves him worrying
About the price that's soon to pay...

The screams of the dying, the wailing of widows
Yes, he sent many souls to burn!
The hatred he brewed for the minds of men
Is the fuel of the fires of Hell!
He washed the streets with the blood of his victims
Not once, but wherever he came
And the thought of their souls serving him soon
Doth make him shiver with joy...

And no longer is he fearful
With pleasure he will heed the Call
The loving presence of the Master
Maketh this price a joy...