May the Gods have mercy on your soul, for if I hunt thee they shallt bare the only hopeful eyes upon your weeping brow.
Brave words crumble to dust in thy mouth as thou stand before me, your executioner.
And lo'! Mine jaws steely bind breaks heart and waxy bone, brittle like ash against a hurricane.
What fortitude of little amend does thou hull hold in its last breath but that of hatred and rage, one snufed so easily out dispite its self spawned blaze.
Come then! Sound the horns to make mine essence aloft skybound!
May the Gods have mercy on your soul, for if I hunt thee they shallt bare the only hopeful eyes upon your weeping brow.