Twelve Soldiers

I'm an old solder who has lost his friends
Tired and alone I sit, refusing to follow
Their path into woe
Each one left in turn, with a faint smile
And a final overwhelming sigh
I'm an old Soldier guarding the banes of his lost friends
Twelve swords that used to be bright and true
Now sitting covered with rust
And cursed by twelve tiered men
Who had no better friend to stay their hands