Going Home

There are flowers growing upon the hill

Like they always have before

Will you stay here with me or go and kill

On a foreign lonely shore

Put away your anger your sword your steed

And away your hatred bear

Will you leave the sun and its shining heat

For to seek the darkness there

But you love your anger your sword your steed

And all that's gone before

Now the ways of peace are again betrayed

Away fine lad once more

On his horse he rode

Distant truths are untold

'til the cold steel through his heart

Did strike the mortal blow

There are flowers growing upon the hill

Like they always have before

And now you slumber and all is still

And your sword will ne'er strike more

And your sword will ne'er strike more