Knights ride great stallions,
to far away battles
in far away lands.
Dmasels saved from dragon fire,
armor polished bright
and a farie sunset.
Dragons slain with sword,
and those not yet tested,
outcome still undecided.
Old fears put to rest,
boxes stacked in closets,
contents long disregarded.
Sometimes blood runs red,
other times it runs green
It is but a natural order,
laid down long ago.
One we each follow step by step
until we reach the final landing.
Old peopld die away,
and old lifes turn to dust.
And today there's so few dragons,
it somehow seems just,
that just once in a while,
the dragon wins at last.
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