Three long months of fighting, the army settles down,
Many think of curses. And aim them at the crown.
This king of theirs is foolish, how long will it take,
For him to see the danger that comes when we awake?
How many more should die, so he might claim this land,
If he is not careful, he dies by my own hands.
I would make it slow, so he might feel our pain,
Then his blood shall pour, as though it were simply rain.
Would it be a crime, to punish those who wrong?
More will surely die, we've waited far too long.
Bring me forth my blade, it happens here tonight,
And if I should be caught, I know I did what's right.
