A sigh in the wind turned cold
Winter’s arrival will come
The days of grace are gone
A savior arrives but not, not forever
Chaos upon the land
Emerald fields turned gray
Aimlessly in the snow searching for life
A wicked mortal behind the shadows
Not to find anything but delusions
Of the end of it all
Or so he thought will be the cause
There might be an end to the torture shown
Will the alignment prove perfection
Flocks of cries tend the fire
Peace the goal but for what price
Gathered all in the room
Of any class of any doom
There might be an end to the torture shown
Will the alignment prove perfection
Will it now find its way
After the famine
Normality returns
But the remnants
Shall never disappear
The flower un-withers
Revealing its colors
As the spring arrives
To bless the mortals