The Glory Seekers

A battle to the finish for victory or death
For the glory seekers against their enemies sworn.
The trumpets blasted off in herald, the sound of war,
And the combatants drew their swords from their sheathes.
The audience knew of the sense of finality,
For the winner moves on to glory,
While the loser simply perishes.
There was simply no turning back.

Victory or death's the word,
Or the world, if you will, to the glory seekers,
For if they cannot have one,
They'll certainly have the other.
It was victory which they championed,
But then the day came along
When the tides of change blew it all astray.
Life decayed, and death soon found a way.

Now, there is always the belief of reincarnation,
Of the phoenix rising in a flame from its own ashes.
Why not use religion to comfort the soul?
For the legions of people who gathered
Around their fallen heroes,
They simply prayed for another day.
And the glory seekers ascended into The Light.
Their souls validated, wearing laurel wreathes, strumming harps.

And the glory seekers achieved martyrdom
In their fall against their enemies sworn.
It was the glory seekers who had a manefest destiny.
They fought to the last man, the last man left standing,
And they died heroes in the eyes of their legions.
They did not die in vain, no, no,
For they died on the field of battle,
For the glory seekers fought until the trumpets called.