A fog-ridden village in the distance, or the dales,
Now it is within reach, I follow gravel paths I built myself.
Spiritless I stride in torn coats, boots, ravaged by the battle,
So long have I yearned for the day of my return.
Who am I? No one, yet another
Who was torn out of the phalanx
In the middle of a battle wehre I was needed most.
Leaden is my step, I am the captive of a leash,
Knotted from the broken bodies of the comrades now out of reach.
Having been the truest servant of my kind,
I eft no path unburned, no bridge uncrushed behind.
War Beast, returning home...
Distant, far lands have I roamed.
A stranger from the past,
Hailing from times never meant to last...
Upon arrival I am hailed
As long lost sheep astray of the herd,
Astray of the fields and landmarks
Once again in front of
Empty eyes are staring into empty faces
I no longer yearn for to know me,
Disguised, disgusting, the wandering wolf, a starving pair of
Empty eyes
Are staring into empty spaces I no longer know,
So transparent seems waht once had made me grow.
Where to walk when the earth is burning?
Where to stand when the tide is turning?
Too long, too victorious have I ruled the fronts,
How ever to face the peace of old days
With a neck in the noose of the past,
Iron strings that fasten,
And Each new step lighter than the last...
The war beast, returning home...
I recall giving birth to what is known as scorched earth,
Now I see it was the ground I meant to cultivate.
Yet, I shall remain at war with time forever.