If I may be so brash and bold,
I feel as if I’ve been growing old,
With everything I touch that turns to gold,
There is nothing that can’t be bought nor sold,
Yet I yearn to feel the blistering cold.
People quake and tremble at my sight.
For they can sense my power and might,
Clad in armour dark as the night,
It’s my destiny to endlessly fight,
Wish I could do what’s worthy and right.
I live to hear men and cannons roar,
A sound that thunders as a come ashore,
My heart beats with the drums of war,
Enemies and foes fall by the score,
Like the heroes in days of yore.
I have no true equals nor friends,
Those I know are means to an end,
As their spirits and wills I easily bend,
There is no way to make amends,
For the piles I leave can only ascend.
As I drown in booze and whores,
Doing what my family abhors,
Living like a rampaging boar,
For the scum of earth is my décor,
Yet I find myself hollow and wanting more.
