With oaths sworn, come what may,
The crown settled down upon the skeletal brow,
Gleaming maggot white.
O, the crowned king,
Blind to mercy,
Thy work is endless.
Preparation craves victims,
As murder needs intention.
Stories fuel the spilling blood,
in twirls go the sword,
Round and round,
Thy lives will not be crowned by memory.
Worms dreaming folly,
Our tiny flame burns meager.
Rest now on the carpet of spilled oaths,
The feet of the crowned king is welcoming.
The roots between his toes run deeper than Yggdrasil,
to kiss Hades' hearth,
where dead mothers greet their children.
The final question asked,
Settle now to bones.
Before the crowned king,
We returned to dust.