Upon the stream was the lady of red,
Who stood and rise to earn instead.
The silent plane by grim intent,
Barren life of monument.
To stride along the barren field,
Silence gaze that she now wield.
And not too long that start a war,
By petulant spoils of men for more.
For desperate need of black gold soil,
Hopeful need their wicked spoil.
Alarm by life to linger and hold,
Greatly need the desire of gold.
And now their days but dust to the wind,
All their deeds are black as sin.
The lady of red, walking under the moon,
Where everyone that left too soon.