To Sol a Thane
Richard M. Walker, Paul Kearns
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