Gleaming shell of an autumn lie
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Fable of right divine
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You gained your crowns by heritage
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But blood was the price of mine
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The throne that I won by blood and sweat
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By Perun, I will not sell
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For promise of valleys filled with gold
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Or threat of the halls of hell
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When I was a fighting man
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The kettle-drums they beat
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The people scattered gold dust
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Before my horse's feet
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The way of the king
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But now I am a great king
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The people hound my track
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With poison in my wine-cup
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And dagger at my back
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The way of the king
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What do I know of cultured ways
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The gilt, the craft and the lie?
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I, who was born in a naked land
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And bred in the open sky
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The subtle tongue, the sophist guile
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They fail when the broadswords sing
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Rush in and die, dogs,
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I was a man before I was a king
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The Way Of King
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| Thalarion |
