The knife was enchanted, With magic, it's granted. Forged in a forge far away, Its strength would never decay. The knife was enchanted, With magic, it’s granted. A spell kept it strong, Through the night, all along. No matter the force or the fight, It stayed unbroken, pure light. A spell kept it strong, Through the night, all along. The magic was old, In the moonlight, it’s bold. The blade held its power, you see, A wonder for you and me. The magic was old, In the moonlight, it’s bold. Rook F8 to H8
I sit with you and watch you brew Nightly, potions, ale, and stew, The tale is old, the detail new, Seasoned with tears, some me, some you. I hurt, I ache, I can't believe, Others, too, great pain receive. It cannot be! I can't conceive of all the world without reprieve. And as I struggle to accept That pain's a plain, mundane concept, (Not punishment for the inept, Nor something dodged by the adept) I find it hard to comprehend You reach your hand out to a "friend" You hardly know. Yet we pretend, Play words, find Truths we can defend. We fly together, lost in the skies, - Companionship such a surprise - Onwards! Upwards! Still we rise! Laughing softly while time flies. As we conjure heavens so blue You call to you your worthy crew Standing together, though just a few, Staunch, we build the game anew.
