I can breathe.
I draw in life, I draw in existence.
I open my eyes.
Let the sights in. The world is unfolding.

Why was I summoned?
Why awakened?
Who dares to command me?
To awaken me?

I can feel the compulsion pushing me
to rage, to storm, to hate
and to lash out at those surrounding me.
The king becomes the pawn with his part to play.

Assassin. I'm made to be the sword's extension.
Time after time I've seen leaders topple and genocide.
The storm that darkens the sun darkens the sky.

Cloaked in atrocity
I let the stain spread out from inside me.
I'm the rot that follows the wound.

I can see the lands stretched out before me.
Disease and pain and hate,
I let them do most of the work for me.
And my bloody work is done.

Destruction. Obliterating the war machines.
Time after time I've seen
countless battles, millions die.
The smoke obscuring. Ashes falling from the sky.

I pour out my hate. I fan the flames.
The terror, the fear, the horror that bathes the victims
but destroys both sides makes them suffer.
That's the power that is mine to hold. To brandish.
To wield.

I can see.
I brought you flames. I brought you disease.
Resistance destroyed,
replaced by terror and a world that's burning.

The faces are changing,
the warlords different.
But their petty reasons and ambitions stay the same.

I can feel the weariness building.
To rest, to sleep, to dream
and to ready myself for the time
the king becomes the pawn once again.

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