Foul masses, in darkness astir
Creeping, crawling, killing by night
Our pristine streets now tainted, impure
Victory! you cry, we have won the fight!

Hold quiet, your cheers and delight
Prematurely, a victory, you infer
No punishment, it seems, you incur
Darkness obscures, your soul contrite

Black City, you deceive yourselves
Friends, you call, the Bastion North
Into Chaos, they would have you delve
A tainted Order, you blindly put forth

To your ideals, you hold not steady
Ally with Chaos, and you shall find
A knife in your back, the Bastion ready
To cut your throat before your eyes, blind

Hark! the Jewel lives on, Pure of Heart and Mind
A tragedy for you, the Black Rock, so filled with Hate

Freely and Truly,
Narcissus Rousseau, Imithian

Penned by my hand on the 18th of Scarlatan, in the year 524 AF.