The holy code you hold so dear
Has slipped from you at last I fear.
Your days of kindness draw to a close,
As in your heart dark evil grows.
From this day forth your touch is doom,
You shall see no more flowers bloom.
Your hands bring with it autumn’s chill;
The blossoms wither, the trees you kill.
The symbol of your faithful kin,
Sears your flesh and burns your skin.
When you touch this thing you serve,
It chills your heart and breaks your nerve.
Hear no more the call of gold,
To its charms your hear grows cold.
No longer shall you convet treasure
No more shall it give you pleasure.
The gift of verse is yours no more,
Lost be the lines of the ancient lore.
From this day forth your mind shall wonder,
Of things disjointed shall you ponder.
Oh you who dwell in splendid hall
‘Neath mountains deep and granite walls.
No more shall you posses the sight
That sees in the darkest dead of night.
You burn in shadows deep and dark,
A mystic light, a wizard’s spark.
No more you memories recall,
Forget them now, one and all.
Once you were sure and light of step,
A silent shadow in the woodland’s depth.
Now from you footfalls have no grace
From no foe you’ll hide your face.
By the blackness of the night
Gone forever is your might.
Weekend by your mortal frame,
With these words your strength I claim.
A bastard son are you my friend,
Born alone, that’s how you’ll end.
No more in mean-kind find your place,
Shunned be you by the human race.
A bastard Son, so I see
You’d burn me at the stake and or hang me from a tree
Beat my wife and lop off her head,
Bury our children before they were dead.
You sit in your castle, hiding from death,
Giving orders and gasping for breath.
Behind your guards and castle walls you cower,
Afraid to come out, afraid of my power.
Your army is strong so come out and fight,
Lest your evil soul is afraid of my might.
Your men are weak and improperly fed
They join me now or fight till your dead.
You take a bath in your enemies blood,
When I slay your army, you’ll die in the flood
"I’ll can’t swim," you’ll cry as yours lungs fill with water and you die
I’ll walk right past as your body floats bye.
A pile of flesh and weathered bones you will be,
Floating down the river, your darkened soul free
Dried skin shriveled against your head
The bathe is over, now your dead.
Your burned my flesh and seared my skin
Tore out my eyes and killed my kin.
I sought out your wife and burned your friends
But as you said I won in the end.
To what ends shall we kill.
Fore bonafide glory or just the thrill.
What difference does a victory make
Without an enemy, I’m a fake.
Standing on the tower, a rope at my throat.
If I live I’ll drown in the moat.
Standing proud on the sill I curse at my friend,
What does it matter one step and It will end.
Standing on that window sill with the rope at my throat,
I leapt to my death and died in the moat.
My family and brethren now avenged,
My sad and diminutive anger now revenged.
I look back upon memories of the past
A distant future that shall never be passed.
My enemy and friend, now banished to sin,
Nothing o his mind but dried and eaten skin.
A light in the tunnel we both do see,
We shouted for glory and jumped for glee.
The day is reborn for us both to rejoice,
A day of light, and one fateful choice.
This bloody war is behind us, I should think,
The evil stench grows stronger and is beginning to stink.
I turn upon my enemy and blame him for my pain,
He punches me in the face and curses my name.
The day has came to see the end,
The death of my friend is about to begin.
A fiery aura of magic, floats throughout the sky
He looks up, about to die, crouches and ducks and shields his eyes.
His mind in fury, races over the past,
He stands tall and proud and excepts deaths chilling grasp.
My spell is at its reaches,
Burning his skin and singing his breeches.
Looking at him, the soft visage of nobility,
To kill him, it would be cowardly.
My magic now forgotten and my throat entirely dried
I walk to my friend, staring at the sky, and stand by his side.