Siren

Siren

Hiding in the corner,
the bard, he slowly sings.
Song of grief and mourning,
song of finished things.

They have gone too far,
The darkness; she shall win.
Right foot, left foot, back step, spin.
Bright flames in the battle's din.

Chords of doom and dark
claws sunk deeper yet.
Song of dispair and fate,
song of those who would forget.

Dance, my ladies, dance,
the darkness seeks to sing,
Twirl left, dip right,
Sirens for the Black King.

The bard a'hiding in the corner
stepping forth onto the floor.
Song of silent mourners,
song of those of nevermore.

Hark! My lords, look!
The darkness seeks to spread.
Step, bow; switch, my ladies.
Go no more to the shrines of the dead.

The bard coming forth
lamps dimming in his wake.
Song of the Black King's battle,
song of blackest fate.

Stop, my dancers, stop.

So you have listened to my tale.
Ask you of the outcome?
Ask you of your sons, sent to battle?
Only their ashes returned?

Listen to all the King's horses,
all the King's men,
the crashing of his battle.
They're flying closer as I speak.

Huddle together in your fear; why not?
They have already won their war.
'Tis victory on the Black King's Day!
Summer has gone like last night's whore,
taking your dreams, slaves to the King.

Yes, sweet dancers
Your cause and light is lost.

And 're morning arrives, I must depart.

Pleasant dreams.