here we are at the fortress of long wings my fellows bristling with anticipation at slurp among their supperbowls a map of steam in the rafters overhead shovelling it in i don t taste a thing only a memory of kisses spilled upon my chin i am tired i am afraid my heart is full of dread i am tired and i am afraid my heart is full of dread even now on the evening of battle i m clammy with doubt of love i m really scared of going how i yearn to hold you once again in the morning we march across the sea to the sunken monastery to face our faceless enemy i am tired i am afraid my heart is full of dread i am tired i am afraid my heart is full of dread the rolling fields grow dark as the grave and i am running for my life avowed to never draw another blade i ll be back home just as soon as i can let s betroth without delay pack the horse and ride away find some better place where we might raise a family  my heart is full of hope i am tired and i am afraid my heart is full of hope1