Stories told so long ago of battles faught and won. All with glory and romance. But where's the romance when your legs are gone.
Talking old solders, Talk about the girl they left behind. Drinking shots, Soon battles drift into there mind. And all the glory now taken away.For there is no romance in death. No girls to play. With battle raging. Soon what was youth, is aging. With time will go away
No romance in death, no glory in the crippled state. When there is nothing left,Nothing left but hate. What conclusion can be made? If you live by, you will die by the blade.
Originally Posted On Site: 2009-01-04 02:57:34
Last Login: 05.24.12
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