they rode those two hundred men narrow roads through this dark cold land they burnt all villages they raped and destroyed took gold silver and coins taxes to king was their mission but pain and sorrow they left behind they drank all booze they stole and killed fields in flames and families without homes men with their golden swords horses armoured heads iron harassed hard blades of weapons slashed in silence the village lie down hearts bleeding morbid sorrow one man of these men of the death one man broke down down he went with insanity down man lunatic he lit the fire under the house you could only see his feet he burnt away his insanity burnt away those memories