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I saw descending a hill
A tall man in a grey hat
He held within one hand an eye
And in the other a ladle of water
The man beckoned to me
He offered me a drink
And I drunk

And in my mind I saw
An eagle that soared
And I watched myself from above
Engorged on decadence
Yet still starved in my heart
And so I took up my walking stick
And was determined not to stay

Into my heart I walked
And find my soul was warped
I let myself die
And that day I found a White Kingdom
And in this kingdom was a hall
With wooden frame and dotted with shields
And beneath each one a spear

In this hall were the thousands slain
Everyone tunic with blood stained
Tall men, craftsmen, norsemen
A thousand heroes, a thousand vagrants
Two thousand women and two thousand servants
And between them, men three thousand more
And I asked them to guide my mind

So I was sent back down to Earth
And back to this hell I soon would enter
To see myself decadent
Mistrusted and slothful
Know ye yet or what
But today I knew that I must work
And for thirteen months I must wait

I became a man
And a trade I would make
To keep my family
And to save my heart
I would have to fight
So here I am
Ready to begin again

Nazheek,

How long has it been? Too long or just a blink? Where does your power lay, from yesterday to today, ask if I may?
My sir, what really makes it real? The rabbits or the Queen? Isn't our goal still the same, the faces of people remaining unchanged?

The frumious one, the one who is fun, the clown in the town of a world that is brown, and grey, and every single day I still ask that I may? Have another one, have another one for me captain, have another one of your drinks and I'll sit down for a rage of the age of dismay that many of writ 'for today but everything is still okay? It's getting worse but is it a chance?
A chance to dance with the spirits of old, the ones who forged all that we know out of gold, and wealth and that inbetween, with money you could get everything seen, and you could be so incredibly happy!

Or you could be like a demon from hell, surrounded by rot and enchanted with the smell, the smell of the spell that you knew full well,
was not from the vast eternal conscious of Bael?