30 years have I traveled, since the court came to call.
I tore my robe and gnashed my teeth at my house's turn to fall.

I turned on the leaders, who saw what I could not see.
That Oblivion is coming, and that that truth sets one free.

I sought my answers else where, over stream and through the dell.
In nature and creation, where the light and darkness are thick and fell

There were no answers in the cities, no answers truth be told.
Oblivion is coming, at the hands of the bold.

Now like Uncle Flair the prophet, and the zombie elephant fats
Who together remembered the Lord of Chaos would be coming back.

I sharpen up my tools and remember tricks of old,
the hypnotising of the feeble, and the redistribution of gold.

If you find me in your temples, stockrooms or at your smoking shrines,
Instead of feining outrage or shocked panic and surprise,
remember ever present Chaos is always on the rise.


Penned by my hand on the 5th of Sarapin, in the year 730 AF.