The war isn't mine,
it is as old as the wine,
old as the cuckoo's song:
Spring's back, see the morn.
Swords and shields,
bows and javelins
fill my armory fast.
Warcries and songs,
big drums and horns
adorn my batallion vast.
I chose this fight.
I know what's right.
History may turn old.
I'll stay strong and bold.
I bear no fear,
unto victory I steer.
Death is but an illusion.
This war is my salvation!
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