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I am a wolfish moloch
On a foray into ultimate woes...
Gaining on the dry cold of depraved lament.

The mopes are fadeless
Guarded by this sword of mine

I am a lordless monarch
With unmasked romantic views
Soured by chill since times long past
Unbowed within Frost's mirthless grasp

Cut down the raised hopes
Never wane, raw night of mine.

Noble storms maul with thornlike drifts
Besiege Earth's miscreant bequest.

Introversion, a bulwark against vile incursion...

Wreaths of ashes encrust my reich
Hauled down in Destruction's fatal wake

Imperator of this ashen bane
To shield my empire from harrowing passion
And reminiscence.

Rending the light while I brandish the sceptre
Embitterment will impel my frost-bound soul
To eradicate all life
With strong back-up of the mighty royal hordes.

And my baleful warriors
Rushing at weak benign foes
Trust in my blacksmiths' work.

Wild, mythic charm!
Dark emotions debouch in a prewar roan
Ulterior comrades-in-arms emerge
From the most remote antiquity
To mar massively in this moonless inclement storm.

But Victory will be confronted with a grieved void...

So I reside in Rancour's umbrageous woods
And those poetic tears will never be mine.

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