The Dessert Flower Shalt Never Wilt Part 1

I am a man, Aryan and true. Persian in heart, bow at hand, I stare at the skys deep wild blue. Child of the Sun, Hunter of the lion, king of kings, creator of freedom. Look upon me for I am man, barer of the earth, Risen from the sand. From a child so small ive grown and grown, taking the land of powers so bold. Lydia,Egypt,Babylon, and more for I shall not stop until nothing but PARSA is told. From the reigns of my horse I ride throu the land, never to stop as far as i can. Until one so bold to even face persia, the macedonian was born. Now I look upon ruins of my people, forever lost in the lands of Issus. Taken from us the power of the world, Macedonia offers only but crysis. Wanting a barbarian ideolized people, the leader so young is taken forever. Now by there own hand they are destroyed, taking from the aryans the endeavor. For we Achemenids will fight forever.....