A great king deeply grieved upon his golden throne
He'd kept watch as the young kingdoms approached
His people had grown childless, the situation averse
His empire's greatest walls were decaying and old
This ancient race lost purpose and deserved reproach
The surging numbers of the invaders became a curse
The empire's legacy of victories now meant nothing
It took the empire many great generations to grow
They'd fallen in but one month and lost everything
The ancient race died without glory, in the slaughter
In dying, they took treasures and their culture's soul
And to be forgotten, and forsaken in their future
