A shadow called Leo throws his game,
Reflected in faces screaming red,
And stands aside to bind his snake
To every accusatory thread.
Fists scream with pure reason!
And defiant and free!
So rapturous!
So real!
Phyrric victories!
"Shouldering the burden of worldly conceit
Is my sole and lone task!" he surely roars.
A shell of his Kingdom lies at his feet.
The winged staff of the healer snapped in his paws.
Thrust down and skewered on it's splintered shaft
The head of the dark pig takes up the chant.
Her insect winged fog deflecting riposte,
Blood drool groans downwards
To refill her trough.
Your beast is free now.
It's looming behind.
Silence your ravings!
Fall to your belly!
Let's saddle this sour snake.
All push to the grind!
Face into the paving and scream all you like!
Your livid old armour
An Iron Maiden tonight.
I see all your lies oozing through the holes...
