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Description
The Fifth Horseman

Good evening, men! How's chaos been?
So lovely to converse again.
Dismount your steeds and sheathe your blades,
For we've much to discuss this dear dreadful day.
Come now, ye damned Horsemen, let's gather round
And see whose hand's banished more sinners to the ground.

I, Pestilence, the conqueror,
Have roused much strife and spilled much gore.
Each empire; each sovereign land
Is felled by my destructive hand.
All rulers perched upon their thrones
Sit within range of my conquering bow!

I, War, bid much more blood to pour!
All armies hearken to my roar.
Once my wrath has been inflamed
All cities languish in its blaze.
The rule of law and written word
Bow to the reign of my ruinous sword!

I, Famine, need no such blade to slay!
I bid men's bodies to wither away.
All souls ensnared within my throes
Emerge as shrunken sacks of bones.
The most robust men cannot prevail
When faced with judgment on my scales!

I, Death, the ghastly Thanatos,
Hold the attribute that men fear most!
I swallow all the wayward souls
Set loose by you ungainly fools.
My plagues hush all forsaken life;
No mortal can evade my scythe!

But lo, what is this fleshly thing?
He's quite unlike we gruesome kings.
Who are you, Sir, to think yourself able
To claim a chair at Judgment's table?

Who, I, dear Sirs? I'm only Man.
There's little power where I stand.
I am naught before you lordly wraiths,
Yet I feel entitled to this place.
Pray, my Lords, let me explain
I daresay I'm the victor of this grisly game.
For, you see, my kind has killed far more
Than the ravages of all you four.

When false prophets of conquest come riding our way
We sever their heads and hang their corpses for display.
During wartime our brothers' blood rusts on our blades,
For we slaughter our kin by the thousands each day.
And if famine should cause us too much distress,
We simply partake of our brethren's flesh.
In the clutches of plague, to preserve our own heads,
We cast out our dear sick and forsake them for dead.

So, my Lords, though my countenance is not quite as grand
As those of the members of your murderous band,
It's more than a matter of senseless pride
That I humbly appear in this place at your side.
For far crueler than the wrath at heaven's command
Is the grim judgment rendered by Man upon Man.

Description
The Fifth Horseman

Good evening, men! How's chaos been?
So lovely to converse again.
Dismount your steeds and sheathe your blades,
For we've much to discuss this dear dreadful day.
Come now, ye damned Horsemen, let's gather round
And see whose hand's banished more sinners to the ground.

I, Pestilence, the conqueror,
Have roused much strife and spilled much gore.
Each empire; each sovereign land
Is felled by my destructive hand.
All rulers perched upon their thrones
Sit within range of my conquering bow!

I, War, bid much more blood to pour!
All armies hearken to my roar.
Once my wrath has been inflamed
All cities languish in its blaze.
The rule of law and written word
Bow to the reign of my ruinous sword!

I, Famine, need no such blade to slay!
I bid men's bodies to wither away.
All souls ensnared within my throes
Emerge as shrunken sacks of bones.
The most robust men cannot prevail
When faced with judgment on my scales!

I, Death, the ghastly Thanatos,
Hold the attribute that men fear most!
I swallow all the wayward souls
Set loose by you ungainly fools.
My plagues hush all forsaken life;
No mortal can evade my scythe!

But lo, what is this fleshly thing?
He's quite unlike we gruesome kings.
Who are you, Sir, to think yourself able
To claim a chair at Judgment's table?

Who, I, dear Sirs? I'm only Man.
There's little power where I stand.
I am naught before you lordly wraiths,
Yet I feel entitled to this place.
Pray, my Lords, let me explain
I daresay I'm the victor of this grisly game.
For, you see, my kind has killed far more
Than the ravages of all you four.

When false prophets of conquest come riding our way
We sever their heads and hang their corpses for display.
During wartime our brothers' blood rusts on our blades,
For we slaughter our kin by the thousands each day.
And if famine should cause us too much distress,
We simply partake of our brethren's flesh.
In the clutches of plague, to preserve our own heads,
We cast out our dear sick and forsake them for dead.

So, my Lords, though my countenance is not quite as grand
As those of the members of your murderous band,
It's more than a matter of senseless pride
That I humbly appear in this place at your side.
For far crueler than the wrath at heaven's command
Is the grim judgment rendered by Man upon Man.