To sol a thane

None so revered as the orchard keeper

Whilst his cargo sways heavily

See now, he's forgotten

Like all the mute ones when bellies fill

See now as I spit only contempt for you

For all that weave only from second hand passions

Mine is the heart that skips not a single beat for all your kind

I am not your kin, I'm not your peer

You that bear not a thought of your own making..

Ye in panic and ye in retreat

Ye who sing laments of sufferings not yet born

Your minds collected are unfit to engage even one of ours

Ye who roar surrender in unison

With yet even a whisper of carnage to be anointed

The wolf with lamb's heart falls in shame

Having died tasting no blood but his own, having died a coward