They chased our unit down a dust covered road
Desperate to somehow breathe, open my mouth
Sweat and dust created a veneer, with caked dirt
Few paths one might use whichever one is taken
We moved swiftly to begin but we're exhausted
Ancient scribes told of an army, lost and dying
No one knew enough to go seek and find them
No one knew where they'd went or came from
Now surrounded, on foot, and by horse archers
Knowing once we'd read this, a final chapter
