In the troubled times that came
before the empire would ebb and fall
an uneasy quiet stilled the land
for the wolves spent their days
in gilded white houses
and Jackboots stomped from afar.

The sky turned to darkness,
shadows of masked mercenaries,
stained with stolen valor,
rained terror from above
etching hatred onto innocent souls,
lusting after the cold taste of
metal and black powder.

We know what’s not coming,
neither rapture, nor glory.
The dreams of a nation
are once again battered
by the tides of betrayal and greed.
We are left only to wonder
Whence will judgement come?