Tone set by a sun hiding

A king weeps for good men dieing

Clash of steel your exotic melody

Shout and squeal as a choir

The symphony blaring

A wave hits the door to his court

Blast open

A stave of wood anchors his foot to the ground

He hadn't planned on moving anyhow

He stood with a roar

Readying shield and axe

Not for combat but show he thought

None the less proud

He fought hard

Bringing countless men down

Broken weapons and ****** wounds

The body pile stacked around

Eclipses once grand steps

To the last throne worth sitting in

Held still to this day

By the last king worth sitting in it

Holding tightly onto those

His broken weapon and mortal wound