Their blood congeals upon the floor
But before the finale
We all try to survive
But no one outlives death
Those who fight
Know their lives are short
Broken for the pleasure
Of the elite and common
Their bodies are tools
Their flesh fragile
No matter their strength
No matter how agile
Their wounds turn rotten
Their lives were cheap
Sold like oxen
Their blood into the sand will seep
Forever staining the colosseum
