Beneath a murder of crows circling above
The bodies of the dead from two armies
Upon a field of unharvested wheat below
White fields of pristine snow now corrupted
Where the viscera, blood, disconnected limbs
Painting the field in abstract horror
Giving the look of a slaughter house
Giving the look of a slaughter house
Where a butcher has had his day of work
He now performs his skills upon human meat
Fears still grip, horror still lurks at the sight
Of the ichors and shattered flesh of the battle
All hope to survive have since fled
All hope to survive have since fled
Combat between tribes, enflamed
There is reason for the event, no blame
There are no survivors fleeing
No one lives, the field is emptied
A white canvas scattered red
A blanket that is white and soft
There are no survivors, no life
But for the crows aloft
The warriors broken and slain
There is reason for the event, no blame
There are no survivors fleeing
No one lives, the field is emptied
A white canvas scattered red
A blanket that is white and soft
There are no survivors, no life
But for the crows aloft
The warriors broken and slain
Who now lay still and dead
