The Sands Of Time

�The principality of young and old.�
�A darkened plot that quakes ones soul�
�With twisting walls,�
�And shallow halls,�
�Full of men with dieing calls�
�The shifting sands of subtle lands with blood dried deep within�
�Controlled by dark corrupted men who live a life of sin.�
�The masses often them and yet they follow them and yet they don�t know why�
�Following like blinded youth until the day they die

�Like lambs to the slaughter, or like a vultures prey�
�Men of varied untold lives live this meager way�


�And when this hell is over and the soldiers lay at rest�
�Although they may resume their lives, their minds are in distress�

�But before they can restore them, they are sent again to war�
�Not to see their daughters; mothers; or the children they adore�


�And so they rise again and again at the dawning of the sun�
�Holding their hopes and dreams, and very lives, in the chambers of a gun;�


�But when this hellish war is over, what will they have to say?�
�For they have known a bitter hell and lived it day by day�


They�ll ask you


�In the end, what does this bring?�
�Broken hearts and bitter cries�
�Ruptured minds and tear swamped eyes�


�In the end what does this bring?�
�Many a thing left unsaid�
�Aimlessly sifting the land of the dead�


�In the end what does this bring?�
�Nothing�they�ll say� more or less�
�Nothing�more or less�

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