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Impenetrable Fortress:
- War and Peace -
- Mercenary men, who lack mercy, press him to impress more -
- This then, is the story of a man’s impenetrable inner fortress, or -
- A foolish Patriot -
Staring death in his cold face, I yield little; if at all my heart flutters
We've no mouths for voicing fear, no ears for discontented mutters
My brothers and I march on; through the thickets and wildest regions
Marching toward uncertain end, no need for reason, a hardened legion
Walking through tundra and deserted planes, the most difficult terrain
The most blatant simplistic truth saying; I’m a patriot, I am not insane
I’m in love with my country, and my countrymen and women the same
I live to breathe freedom, and would die to rescue Alexander’s Reign
The barefaced shame, of these deserters, it haunts my conscience -
It taunts me to think that I cannot know these assorted monsters
The doubts I mean, Russia wants us, how do people sleep at night?
How do they keep their eyes shut, when alone with their lowly plight?
I am at the feet of the Tsars - men that made Russia a superpower
Look what you do: with the nobles discarded, and regarded invalids
Look hard; and you’ll see the retarded winter’s idiots amid the truth
Consider us insipid, shallow, we root out lies and plant gumboots.
- A Battle -
Both sides now are engaged, in a bitter conflict we are embroiled
Plunged into battle, naked on what may, or may not be sacred soil
Tension on a base of a fencer’s foil, is nothing to that in the air today
Feel like cannon fodder on the field; I’ll maybe make my name this way
Musket shots ring out left and right; chaos ensues over the left flank
Taking no heed, I leap forward, my brothers left for dead, and I bank
Pivoting on horseback, I surmount fear, my stomach disappears… and
I stand firm here, I leap into battle, steer toward winter’s ice tears
Twice this year we’ve engaged the French, and twice been driven back
That young Rostov, must’ve had some love at home, he must’ve grown
Driven home, and umm, that – Is more unfair than that armour I lacked
Ingrown toenails, poor-fitting boots - feet itch, limping with a stitch
Ranks of the Russian Army yield, like dead clouds on the battlefield -
Yet I cry aloud: “Long live Russia, in the face of treachery revealed!”
Staring at death without blinking, thinking: ‘Is my mind still in sync?’
Napoleon or no one can penetrate the fortress of my ‘right to think.’
As they march forward here, we skip through the foreword
Like flicking through a book, you have to find your own nook
Your privacy to look at something without being disaccorded
Sacred - A Sordid tale of an assortment of crooks
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Originally Posted by Foreshadow
