The hawks are flying
The woman are crying
The brave soldiers are dying
Where do men look when seeking peace in war?
Do they think upon the things worth fighting for?
Or does it come when a blade cuts them to the core?
I have often sat upon hollow hills watching the men below
Watched as enemies struck blow for blow
Seen war bring victors only hellish woe
Witnessed the undoing of kingdoms
The consigning of great kings into thralldoms
The fall of wisdom
For I am the End
I am the Wend
I am with whom you must contend
My name is Death
