Ten Winters Apart, Pt. 2: Song of Mourn

No man an island
Swept away with rising tide
Land a mare, saddled thrice
By masters eager to ride

With open arms whole west disarmed
Blood lets the blood, scars on feuds to carve

Between lines claimed
Iron curtains waive on wind
Entwined on soil of mine
And honor coiled here within

With open arms whole west disarmed
Yield the last vanguard
Blood lets the blood scars on feuds to carve

Long gone are the voice and lore
Our daughters fled these shores
Who then bears the songs of mourn
With new horizons shadowed from dawn

Long gone are the springtime born
These hands of mine sent them forth
Who then bears the wounds of war
When my loins are bleeding to core