| Are you not your father’s son
|
| Hence talons are fashioned in your crown
|
| Woe sworn on visage adored
|
| Woe sworn upon sheathed sword
|
| Woe sworn and no longer ignored
|
| Thrones circling your platine reward
|
| So the blame was yours and yours alone
|
| Lies for child mundane is yet treason
|
| Are you not your mother’s son
|
| Hence talons are fashioned in your crown
|
| Woe sworn on visage adored
|
| Woe sworn upon sheathed sword
|
| Woe sworn and no longer ignored
|
| Thrones circling your platine reward
|
| Woe sworn on visage adored
|
| Woe sworn upon sheathed sword
|
| Woe sworn and no longer ignored
|
| Crown sharpened in cold ashen forge |