| I am your Majesty, Acolytes, follow thee, arise from the earth, we are filth
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| and dirt.
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| The Stench of man, vile, taints our land.
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| Butcher with our dirks, buried in filth and dirt.
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| From the marsh to the mire, light your torches afire, the human tribe as feed
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| and fodder, sacrifices for Goblin Kaiser.
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| Trudging through the thicket, Commoner senses wicked.
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| His glove to his sheath, path is foul, soil wreaks.
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| Jagged trees, carved faces, begin to creek, «Beware of the beast, soul is foul, his will wreaks.»
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| A lumbering crag of slag and waste, furrows of corpses in his wake.
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| From the marsh to the mire, light your torches afire, the human tribe as feed
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| and fodder, sacrifices for Goblin Kaiser.
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| Fearless tremble, blasted by his axe.
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| Nobility cut down hack by hack.
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| A feast of nobles, headless at the table.
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| Ripped from their barren shoulders to their necks.
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| From the marsh to the mire, light your torches afire, the human tribe as feed
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| and fodder, sacrifices for Goblin Kaiser.
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| Goblin Kaiser, «Alas I have sniffed you out.
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| You wreak of man!
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| Greet my biting snout.» |
| Commoner, «No it is I, Commoner now King,
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| your demise is my golden sheath.
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| Now great Arcturus, carve him piece by piece.» |