and i walked for miles and endless miles
until i came to the edge of the city
where the great magyar kings waited
dressed in mail n winged helmets
dark n terrible they were to behold
mounted on great chargers
with their retinues of warriors and advisors
and one looked down from his black horse
and summoned me
and i donned my chafing armour
and my faded tunic
my broadsword n axe
swung myself aboard my mount
and we rode for miles through forests full of unclean spirits
over swamp n plain
in the heat of the sun
under the cold silver moon
we came to villages
and slew the men
and ravished the women
and burnt the houses down down down
at night we slept under stars
and bedded down with snakes n beetles
and we marched to rome n jerusalem
and we marched upon infidels n christians
always the smell of blood
and the horses
and the fear
and the sound of the laughing wind
and the lamentation of the widows we had made
the sound of skulls being cracked open like eggs
the groan of slaves
the whip
the harsh orders of the kings
and i saw myself one day
as i knelt to drink from a still pool
and my face was old and weatherbeaten
my eyes n cheeks hollow
my hair n beard tangled n lousy
my fingernails caked with dried blood
my dead n tired eyes staring back
my eyes that have seen such things
undimmed by tears
unable to cry anymore
i hear my voice
in some other tongue
in some foreign language
my croaky dried up voice
my whispering sibilant voice
and it says
some other way
some other way
some other way