If you have chosen the path to the throne
Undeterred by the terrible fate of your predecessors
I had to share some thoughts with you
My son you will, in my opinion, be strong enough
To break the curse of endless rituals
Self-sacrifice and immolation
You'll have to cleanse your soul
From the layers of moral putrefaction
That have accumulated through the ages
I hope you'll never share a table
With bastards of Babylonian whores devouring
The flesh of murdered gods
(And drink from holly chalices the wine of their blood)
To rule them you will need
To hone your words to razor sharpness
To purge your kingdom of the vice and heresy
Harrowing the soil with the plow of hatered
Forsaking weakness, mercy and regrets
The orb of divine warrior
Adorns your youthful head
In which the rage of gods will soon awaken
And Avel's spirit by your sword will dispense revenge
This is the way you have to be
To reach the throne that sits atop a heap
Of skulls and skeletons of the tomorrow's dead
Of scum and villains who are feasting at my table at this time of plague
(So let this throne should not be turned for thee to cross upon Golgotha)
I'm afraid
You are not destined to delight
Perfection of your reign
As you were dealt the fate of
Gladiator
(In arena where all your deeds will be accomplished by your sword
So brace yourself to reign in a dominion
That's like neglected garden is overgrown with weeds
Whose paths are covered in decaying leaves
Flanked by the lifeless tree stumps
That never will produce a seed or fruit
Upon the ruins of Pantheon which once was home
To living gods now dead, you must erec
