That sack cities in hearts they lay siege to
A pair that Menelaus wouldn't even dare to stare
Even the finest cataphracts could never charge into
The tender spears that march in your vanguard's dare
Woe to this poor conscript...a flimsy armor he unwillingly dons
Upon which your arrows and maces... merciless and enchanting
Pierce his flesh and breaks his bones
To bring him down to die a lowly infantryman's death
Bloodied and mangled in this battlefield of regret
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