The Blunt Blade Of Samurai.

Hooves clattering, skies shimmering, Mothers crying...
Does life hold no meaning...
The cheeks are puffed, the throats are dry...
In that bloody night arrows did pry...
I was there with a blunt blade of samurai...

Throats get slit, heads are dragged...
For the passion was filled with sorrow so rigid...
Pride was dead, so were their wives...
When the blood was wiped off the shining knives...
No wonder why didn't the children cry...
And I was there with a blunt blade of samurai...

Was it the rain that wet my clothes...
Were they my mother's blood shed tears...
She never withdrew from the world of fears...
The dreadful stench when the town went dry...
And I was there with a blunt blade of samurai...

Stories are scarce and numerals are farce...
Like a child counting stars doped to miss...
Even the morning mist was red...
The sobs my mother emptied while I was dead...
There I lay in long lost darkness and my head held high...
I was there with a blunt blade of samurai...

When did the peace evolve into pieces...
Such dead humanity still apart in races...
Not long did the stab hurt...
Not long did I lie in dirt...
I lay in the lap of heaven as I pass by...
And I was there with a blunt blade of samurai...