Such glittering spires of false gold;
With warriors beleaguered;
They falter before Evil's most bold;
On precipices teetered;

Successes built with old foundations;
They grow stagnant in weakness;
Their festering souls taint creation;
On rotted Goodness;

Such resounding drums of war;
Filled with righteous bluster;
They rage for wanting more;
On pretenses lackluster;

Penned by my hand on the 21st of Aeguary, in the year 833 AF.