Gems of love, stones of war

An emerald green to crimson swing The quiet ones can't be trusted Their love is designed for pressing Under the moon waning pale you bring Your heart completely busted An emerald green to crimson swing Are you awake, can you hold the bearing For all that you have lusted Their love is designed for pressing An oath of trust, a faith worth swearing For battle your gear's adjusted An emerald green to crimson swing Some times, in my dreams you sing, As I am dying on a grey field rusted Their love is designed for pressing I fought as I loved, an umeasurable thing The finger prints can't be dusted An emerald green to crimson swing Their love is designed for pressing.