When Blood is shed

When blood is shed,

and souls are lost.

When blood is shed in the winter frost.

Let me tell you a story,

a horrific tale of pain and sorrow and bloody trails.

Two enemies once were friends,

It came to a bloody bitter end.

A simple quarrel is all it can take,

A terrible battle it can make.

Then one day in a drunken mess,

The greater of two men became the less.

This is the story of a wicked blade and a wicked blow,

a young man falling lifeless to the snow.

There he lies waiting for the angels to take him,

one of their own they will make him.

When blood is shed,

and souls are lost,

always there will be a cost.

He lays there lifeless, empty lungs,

but already new life has sprung.