Lament of Minas Tirith - The good people

Alas! it seems the good must die
they leave the living behind to cry
the women weep
while the dead ones sleep
their sorrow fills the air with pain

the body of the king lays crushed
tossed aside there in the dust
the fair one weeping at his breast
for air no longer fills his chest
her grief for her uncle is apparent

the foe is gone
now comes the dawn
but what a costly price it is
the city's beauty shall be missed
the dark lord soon be vanquished Glory!
ah but what a twisted story
the dead ones must litter the trampled ground
their weeping is the only sound

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