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Ares had a child of a name we do not know
This child grew a gentle soul sent out to be in war
Protect his country in this war, was given only woe
His duty merely wore on him and thus became a chore
Soon he was announced to be the rider, dressed in red
The rider war, the third rider, the rider before death
He took his seat upon his stead a thing some men might dread
The earth did sigh the earth did shake as he took his breath
This war was a hero, one who fought with courage
But his sword corrupted him leaving him with nothing
Now the second war that did take his place
Was his child, was a girl, was just as great
The sword she held above her head, high with good and grace
She hoped not to travel down the path of her father’s fate
She bore the sign of office well it not corrupting her
But soon the entity of war grew restless in her case
It soon roamed out and went to see the first rider it did prefer
Leaving our dearest Enya with all but just a taste
The two then did share this entity, an illegal thing to do
Now who will be the next rider, who will it be, who?