Nathas was a man of sense with both feet on the ground

He lived a quiet life inside a solid little town

He scoffed at tales of magic, tales of glory, tales of war

And he asked himself the question: what are heroes really for?

So life went on for Nathas as he worked his fields by day

Each night, he'd lock the stable and he'd put his tools away

And he'd hurry home to see his joy, his daughters four and three

And he'd hear his own voice whisper, as he held them on his knee

So what's a hero do that makes a hero worth a damn?

Why should a hero want me any way but how I am?

My life is just this town, my work is all I see

I don't care for heroes; why should heroes care for me?

Man may live alone at peace, but nations go to war

And men may wake to find a battle waiting at their door

When Nathas in his stable heard a child cry out his name

He ran outside to find his neighbor's house engulfed in flame

He saw nothing else except his neighbor's son amidst the pyre

Heard no other voice until he'd pulled him from the fire

Then he raised his tearing eyes and saw his own house light the sky

He saw his wife fall burning, and he heard his daughters die

So what's a hero do that makes a hero worth a damn?

Why should a hero want me any way but how I am?

My life is just this town, my work is all I see

I don't care for heroes; why should heroes care for me?

He saw the army marching off into the rising sun

He heard their leaders praise them for the burning they had done

He stirred his stable's ashes and he found a smoldering blade

So he ran into the forest, with the knife that he had made

He tracked them for a fortnight and each night he watched their lamps

He learned the sentry movements, then he crept into the camp

He found the leaders' throats and slit them all a second grin

The last cried out before he died, and guards came rushing in

So what's a hero do that makes a hero worth a damn?

Why should a hero want me any way but how I am?

My life is just this town, my work is all I see

I don't care for heroes; why should heroes care for me?

They didn't kill him outright, they thought Nathas was a spy

But while they tried to break him, they were hit from every side

And when the clash was over and his countrymen had won

They took him home in glory for the things that he had done

Now Nathas is an older man who cries alone each night

He walks the town in silence and the elders cheer his sight

But the young men, raised in peacetime, lift their eyebrows as they pass

And he hears his own voice echo in the questions that they ask:

So what's a hero do that makes a hero worth a damn?

Why should a hero want me any way but how I am?

My life is just this town, my work is all I see

I don't care for heroes; why should heroes care for me?