Cool breezes blow across fields of gold,
Drums rumble and trumpets peal,
The clash of bronze rings clear above the din.
The war-god stride amongst the men
Plucking favorites from the fallen
Distributing the gold of death.
Sweat and blood sate the thirsty earth
And feet churn the bones like pressing wine
Murmurs of shades haunt the field
Crows sound the feasting call
Flesh melts and souls depart
Ares collects his dice
Ready for the next game.