The traveller was back to the shore
Only to meet his ferry gliding away
Helped by the changes of the tide
And an ocean tears of bitterness
That accumulated while he was away
He glanced to see the satisfied soul robber
And heard the dirge being tuned by the owls
The enemy’s victory overwhelming the noisy drums
As the last breath squeezed from his body
He was the voice of the masses
The light of hope for the people
But he couldn’t overcome the inevitable cessation of his
life
As he accepted the defeat
When the icy hands of death came knocking
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