War's rain is lessening as Lady Death stalks the field
The baptism in blood is a relic for a bruised heart
A brief pause for the cleansing rain to bless me
The body and soul blurs the clean water
With filth of a troubled man
Finding the self lost as a new horde surrounds me
Lifting the head up in a cocky way, glaring at the horde
Tightening the grip on the hilts, I have not fallen yet