The Beginning of the End
Come, my Child, for We are coming
We come to wake you from your fetal sleep
you shall send the foolish weaklings running
for in a world of death your soul will steep
it's time, my son, to kill the joy, for comfort shall be never yours
the lives of foolish fiends destroy
upon the burning shores
the time has come, you will arrive
you'll bring your fatal air and strive
to decimate the fiendish men
and say the sword is greater than the pen.
when you are dying, know that you are born.
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