In fields of green
or fields of grey,
they walk unseen
hidden in ignorance
They fly in skies of blue
that once were bright
so open, so honest, everywhere;
yet so hidden in sight . . .
They, once worshipped by their children
now weep with broken shrines in the dark
as they watch their children destroy –
on the low end of fortune's arc
The grey men hunt them
to spill their blood on the ground
they will fight forever in sorrow,
but make no sound, no sound
But a curse they have laid
a curse that once was not
for our fates are entwined
if one dies, the other will rot.
Lonely, they seek solace
in the hearts of those who see.
But their voices are powerless
against men who shout "me"
Forgotten by children who only destroy,
mother weeps and they all cry
for the world where magic is dead
leaving them with only the question "why"