Seared land nothing will ever grow, open a gate to the Underground. Rivers of (lava and) flaming stones, like (flagged) path invite (you) to go Close air burning my lungs, destructive heat changes skin into paper Walking barelegged on the glowing ember, thus I can (only be) reedemed. The night's coming, only a war raging beyond, steel horses rushing naked over the land. Thousands of dead lying among the flames and the dark of death covers all in its coat. Clouds of arrows made mosquito swarms dig the chests of those who fight a war they don't understand. Walls of carts change into ash, with tears in the eyes one can hardly sing the song of good. Beads in hands and the crucifix instead of a pike, redeem me my Queen, Queen of Souls. Margins of alleys with trees standing sentry, hundreds of dead in the branches. Those who said : "I'd never fall for anybody in battles". Raven flocks report their arrival and a croaker (from the dark forest) signifieses. He's the one who calls death in. How insane warfare seems to be for belief in God or greater territory. Who soothes widows and feeds kids, when the king called their fathers die. Who soothes people, when God takes their kins away, who gives them power for times of quandary. They only have you as a virgin, YOU, my Queen, QUEEN OF SOULS.