I am a mercenary soul,
I sell my love for control,
I bleed for my host—
I myself a silent ghost.
Through castle halls and valleys deep,
I wander far,
I do not sleep,
I search for love, I burn, I yearn—
Yet never find a home in turn.
From hand to hand,
From bed to bed,
I give my heart,
Then leave it dead,
No roots, no vows, no sacred flame—
Just whispered songs and lost acclaim.
And when at last I fall alone,
No tear shall grace my weathered stone,
My love, long spent, my name forgotten—
Another soldier slain in fields of rot.
