My feet burn and blister as they touch the hot sand,
The bag rubs my shoulders, my glove rubs my hand,
The sand glistens, full of hate,
Shifting and surging to support my weight.
The sky is cloudless, devoid of expression,
I'm hot and I'm sweaty, but full of aggression.
The other riders pull up beside me,
Holding their horses who want to break free.
I face the opposition, a hard stone wall,
A horn blows, and they respond to the call,
Surging forward, a wave of spears,
But under their helmets, I sense fear.
A few ticks later and we're in a bloodbath,
So many bodies, we've lost the trodden path,
None of them stand, only us left,
We're a solid army, performing life theft.
