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Ragga Medicinal

de Poseidon's Dreams

In the land of the huns a warrior's born
With a fist of steel and a will made of gold
A strong king to some to the romans a thorn
A terror in all of the lands of old
Striking his foes down with blood
Building a kingdom with his enemies' bones
He defies the rules from the east and the west
Violence abounds in his heart

Rivers of blood follow in his wake
Spilling forth red from the heads that he takes
Scourge of God, attila is your name
A nightmare to all that oppose you
Scourge of God, bring your foes to shame
The whole world is set out before you

He marched through the balkins
Spreading terror and doubt
Constantinople bowed down to his will
The dead were so many that no one could count
No one survived, even women were killed
Never defeated, never detured
He marched into rome wreaking havok and fear
Inside the walls he sat and watched the cities burn
The screams of the people unheard

Attila had his forces arrayed
Ready to take all of rome on the roads they had paved
But as he planned his raid he was seen by the pope
Who softened his heart and gave rome back its hope
He turned away and went back to his land
Left his plans in the sand
A short time pasted, he decided to wed
Another woman to lie in his bed
Yet on his wedding day he never left his tent
When they looked inside there he lay dead

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