Kings sit in Ivory Towers toiling away
While the peasants in the field work hard every day

Getting no recognition for the work they do
If only someone knew, their spirits it would renew

One day news comes to leave their peaceful fields
To take up arms with their spear and shield

Not knowing where they are going or the reason why
They march from their peaceful fields only to die 

It does not seem anyone should have such power
To send some to die in such a black hour