Two dozen left of one legion, now lost by the thousands
The angel of death has worn thin his reaper's blade
Even should our names be remembered only by him
Our deaths have become meaningless by acts of the throne
We will be lost to existence, forgotten by his hubris
Of his diplomatic failure, our numbers sent forward
The resulting catastrophe ignored by the emperor's own
His reign unaffected, other than not having our lives to use
He could wage his war still, but less able, we'd been elite
We are gone, the war would continue, but with less hope
For until now, we'd never tasted defeat, a slippery slope
Fear of future loss, true detriment to planning and action
Rome's emperor, in his royal colored robes, wasn't wise
He forgot the old, wise saying, abundans cautela non nocet
He'd make war from the throne's power, than to negotiate
And the true losses were those who were devoted to him
To make his empire greater, defeat enemies of the throne
We gave our lives, with no more left to give, so we pray
Fallen, our bodies rot, turn bloated and purple, in death
Lay there upon the grounds failed, Mars ignored our pleas
And now, in grueling pain, we are drawing final breath
We ask that Charon lets is board his boat across the Styx
To Hades we'll pass, with coins upon our eyes for passage
We died for our people, tossed into final battle, in Hell
For the throne, and we linger now, in the deadlands
Aware of our current limits, darkness and fears
We may reorganize our legion from the many
And overthrow Lord Pluto, master of this realm
Breaking free from our chains, and this insanity
With our first blow, fate is defeated, and destiny invoked
astra inclinant, sed non obligant
