Saga of the White Knight
on a quiet battleground.
The bodies of the long lost dead
are gone or strewn around.
A lonely white charger hides
where his master ‘s lain.
The armor that was white runs red;
he is the White Knight Slain.
Betrayal of the foulest sort
hath rendered him to die,
treachery of love’s last truth
hath rendered him to lie.
Forsaken by himself and love,
he seeketh what remained..
Finding naught but misery,
he is the White Knight Slain.
‘Tis winter’s breath that buries him,
and snow that is his grave.
‘Tis irony that is his death,
for he could not be saved.
Now he that was a angel,
has fallen with the rain.
His only crime, he loved too well
he is the White Knight Slain.
Lightning flares and thunder roars,
the sky is tinged with red.
The man who’s life ‘s given for yours
Can be no longer dead.
His armor turned from white to red
with life he does remain.
No more will death hold him in fear
he was the White Knight Slain. White Knight Slain
A winter
moon settles