The Craving of lands

The craving of Lands
Oh how all adore the sweet taste of fruitful lands
Tended by every mans simple chores
No need for scrupulous countermands

Territories sung of by poetic minstrel bands
Come one, come all; take a step into our open doors
Oh how all adore the sweet taste of fruitful lands

Sail your ships upon our shores, accessible sands!
Constructible moorlands stretching miles, four scores!
No need for scrupulous countermands!

Look over the mineral rich mountains, endless spans!
Surely this shall not last, for there are many stained floors.
Oh how all adore the sweet taste of fruitful lands

Our villages become red with blood, distasteful and bland!
Thousands lie slain, ahead scavengers soar.
No need for scrupulous countermands?

One ruler, many lords, fearless he stands!
Violence breeds from an ambitious core, to ignite the fires of relentless war.
Oh how all adore the sweet taste of fruitful lands
No need for scrupulous countermands.