The sun grabs hold of the earth with its light.
It pulls itself up slowly this morning.
As I and my companions stand like statues for the coming fight,
The silhoutes of evil are seen charging without warning.

They approach from the sun, seeming born from flame.
Brave men wait with patience for death.
Fight not for glory nor for fame.
Fight for simple love and breath.

For what shall I gain from riches?
To I, gold's worth is small.
Eternity awaits, not for demons and witches.
But for those who do not fall.

Money buys happiness for such a short time.
Some may rest, I will climb.