The Highborn
Something I wrote about civil unrest in medivael times, when the ruling class treated the peasents like animals.
The Highborn
The truth of all is small to some
Head a 'tilted, shoulders a 'splay.
The hardship of most is lost on this host
Soft hands, Cold laughter
Resound and reflect forever, Hereafter.
Why should we wait, to accept our fate?
Hands from tools to throttle these fools
Safe haven is gone with
The Death of the high
Temptations of power, we no longer cower
Swords a 'swiping, everyone's dying
New ruling class, cheating, lying
It's all the same, nothings been gained
Soldiers walk with hand to weapon
A great unrest, the highborn detest
The cycle begins again
War, Power, death and life.
Our lives absorbed in one big fight
We've lost our souls, lost the light
On the path to freedom
The highborn rule in our minds.