Wheels tracks and long guns covered by drab paint. Roaring with the sound of thunder as they clank along their way. Spewing forth fire and lead as they drive fear into the hearts of men. Across broken fields cut with furrows then fertilized with blood. Yet no crops are planted ,only The Souls of mortal men. See the Riders hidden Within told to go forth as Angry Men. Driven to wage war against their brother to cause grief and sorrow to father and mother. Now comes there fiery end as dragons breaths break. For Thunderbolt spiral down upon them as if to fall from Olympus Great Heights. So the iron cages of War become tombs and coffins for those that lie Within. So at lasts all that is left is death in burning fiery Graves of metal wrapped around the lives of the men that went forward in the iron horses of War.