London’s gates await a king
mournful voices softly sing
praying the end of this war of roses
for a king to rise from the throes
victory or defeat
earth no more blood to eat
betrayal done
traitor run
decided at bosworth
armies join the earth
sixty six years of distrust
progress turns to dust
all for lust
kingdom for a horse
no escape from your course
blood flows with no remorse
stains white roses red
as the flowers around the kings head.
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