Ive built my caste from sticks and stones,
Ive set my walls with skulls and bones,
Firey moat, angles of doom,
Swirling fog, turrets of gloom,
I play god, you play peasant,
Ill hunt you down like a Christman pheasant,
I bear no guilt for the death of the weak,
Their lives are short, meaningless, bleak,
I govern my kingdom with an iron fist,
You could live or die with the flick of my wrist,
I command the grey skies up high,
I cammand what can fly,
I give you vision, touch, smell,
I give you death, fear, hell,
For I am Just, Vengeful, Cruel,
I feed off your life, your fear my fuel,
My grey planes stretch with gardens of stone,
As you wander through fog you remain alone,
Rusted steel bent to the shape of war,
Line the fear from shore to shore,
Stumps are burning on grey soil,
Farmlands on which you toil,
Ive built my kingdom, sculpt No-Man's land,
From frozen tundras to burning sand,
But hear me now for i am King,
Ill enslave your life with a jeweled ring