The hollow loss has crept into my life
And shaped it to be its home
I fall asleep into a tar black hole
And wake up into the shades of the past day
I am Centurion
For there are hundreds of me alike
Here today gone tomorrow
Born of emptiness and sorrow
Into sadness and shaded lot
Hollow realm devoid of deeper thought
One of millions points of darkness
A diamond in sand though
I am Centurion
There are millions of us
Ordering our one-manned armies
I am my own subordinate and superior
Unnamed army of indifferent swords
Summoned to gather upon the shore
No servants they need, no lords
As obedience to themselves they swore
Past centuries were my shelter
Brought up by stone statues I was
Fed on dew that hasty night left
I have been forsaken by Light
Clad in century-old armour
Corroded by acid of memories
Covered in rust of my anger
Here I rise-Centurion
Against Hope, against Dreams
For suppressed will I fight
Confined imagination
And, oh, upright pose
Retrieve the Mind Equilibrium
Revive words their Might
Give the Night its moonless Darkness
And the Warriors the Cause to Fight
My summoning call dies into the sky-high wall of groans
The orphaned widows mourn their youth
The silhouettes of swords buried in memory
Are cutting thru the realms' screen
To stop the rocking of the empty cradles
Stone hits the stone, the clatter, as hypnotic chant, fades in blizzard�s spell
Ecce Centurion, marching with his alikes
I am Centurion
And there are millions of us