The Thief's Flight

In the dead calm
of the silence of the night,
a thief ran,
no aid on his last flight.

He heard the hoof beats sound
on the dank and dirty ground.
He did all that he could think to do,
and gave one final bound.

He had to fly away
from thence he came.
He had to run away
once again
to be free
to die.

In the sharp rain
his skin grew wet and cold,
the thief ran,
no glory to behold.

A single tear did scar,
for he hadn't gotten far.
He looked to swollen sky to see
his final moonlit star.

He had to fly away
from thence he came.
He had to run away
once again
to be free
to die.

The sound died
to shake the eerie mind,
the thief ran,
but could sense them from behind.

He felt the sword bite in
to vanquish all his sin.
A whispered final prayer to God,
then soul left slickened skin.

He had to fly away
from thence he came.
He had to run away
once again
to be free
to die.

He had to fly.