Winter in the badlands
A king with sword in hand,
Fires burning all around
Red claret blood stains the ground,
Many lay dead making no sound
Killed by swords or scewered on a spear,
Dismembered bodies says something awful happened here
Yet in these brutal times no one shed a tear,
The mighty king was the master of fear,
And killing for power and domination
Was his determination,
But there will come a time when he will be laying too
On a battlefield of blood it true,
Defeated by someone with the same intent
And his body will also be wrent,
And the fear he spread will be at an end.
fauxcroft 
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