Voices condemning, fingers pointing

This cruel world made of strangers.

Blame me for crushing the skulls of those who hunt me,

Penalize me by seeking my clan for their dirty revenge.

But, I want to know why us,

As we are the Nobels of the Woodland,

Who have sworn to protect the subjects of God's land.

But just for a moment don’t they realise their erroneous mistake,

Killing the inhabitants of God's land,

just for a bowl of soup or hanging our heads on their wall,

Showing off their courage and pride.

The human race is a curse to this holy place,

It is the ultimate destroyer,

so cursed that they assassinate whatever comes their way.

But one day our maker will help us by destroying their lives,

Shredding them into flesh and bone,

then we can say that justice is served for the lives of millions,

And then the souls of the dead will rest in peace.

But until it's done we the Nobel's of the Woodland,

Will continue to defend his subjects,

Till our last breath, we will fight for them and with them.