The broken sun glides through a black veiled glow Trying vainly to hide, like an eagle in the snow The last desperate ray pushes weakly through a sky That has lost the will to live But found no courage to die The might and the force of an army of souls Rises up in the night from their desecrated holes Thus the touch paper lights and the reckoning begins Devastation for the loser Living death for he who wins Sitting, back curled anxiously With his parchment and his pen The weary watcher tired of seeing Blood again and again Casts out his eyes, yet the ears remain To tell him that the World's At Journey's End