Lover

The colorful lights are fading and the streets are empty,

hurry and read the names of the seventy.

You can't tell the difference between night and day,

everything's a shade of gray.

If you listen carefully you might hear,

not the living but the ones who never appear.

It's the cry of the fallen samurai's,

the ones who died under the emperor's eyes. 

He let the drunken cup slip out of his hand

and led the warriors to die for his land.

He lost his heart to the wine he create

and was served his friend's head on a golden plate.

The children scattered around his kingdom he took,

changed their names to fit his silky book.

He wanted more power so therefore more slaves,

poor little children were digging their own graves.

The bloodthirsty lust for pride was getting bigger,

no one could expect it turning the grove bitter.

Now you can see the mark he left for the future,

chaos, ruins and a changing nature.