A lonely knight beneath the moonlight cries,
Hands hold the token of a love denied;
Misgiven promises and passion lies
Are wounds the strongest warriors can't abide.
Forlorn resolve no longer would adjure
And a bleak mind nor could submit to pray,
For bravery and courage to endure,
For noble strength and boundless might to stay.
There's nothing left but for a man to plead,
A grain of will inside an emptied heart:
For knives to make the skin and muscle bleed,
For the long sword to split the helm apart.
Woe's end comes marching with the dawn's faint glow
One final charge against a deadly foe.