Milady's gone to war with spouse again
As young masters gone to feed the cannons
What war's done, blood as frequent as the rain
Dead letters, appearing now to and from
Milady weeps again, all seems so sad
and young masters fed the war too, alls gone
Oh politics, and whats been done, so bad
We forget days where the sun had once shone
All is lost my brothers, in this war, oh
This gaping hole sets our lives to, in frisk
Has come a time where we peasants say no
And a time where hells gates close brisk
But here we sit in sunshine, war's done
And talk about thousands of years long gone
