as a young boy chasing dragons
with your wooden sword so mighty
you’re st.george or uou’re david and you
always killed the beast
times change very quickly
and you had to frow up early
a house in smoking ruins and the bolied
at your feet
you’ll die as you lived
in a flash of the blade
in a corner forgotten by no-one
you lived for the rouch
for the feel of the steel
one man and his honour

the smell of resined leather
the steely iron mask
as you cut and thurst and parried at the
fencing master’s call
he taught you all he ever knew
to fear no mortal man
and now you’ll wreak your vengance in the
screams of evil men