Standing outside the coliseum
He wipes his tattered brow
As he waits in chains
And what remains
Of a worn and used nightgown

The oak doors creak as they slowly bow
He walks the axis road
The dogs at his heels, he knows, he feels
Pains that have been bestowed

A table is set upon which blades rest
The choice of which he makes
He reaches forward, picks up the sword
No room here for mistakes

The helmet is hot, he feels his breath
As he walks upon the field
He is a trapped snake inside a crate
He raises up his shield

His adversary stood there watching
With a shaking fretful eye
They prepared to fight until deaths bite
Took and run them dry

With one fell swing of the sword
He brings his foe down
The steel glistens in the sunlight
Enhanced with the smell of blood

The crowd cheers and roars
What do they know of it?
The life he has taken
It cannot be replaced

He is trapped inside
He cries for freedom inside
Slowly he dies inside
Inside himself.