And so, I who bind flesh to the bone,
have decreed that all whom come home,
Will know the lust of a long past roam.
They will taste the lack of steel and stone!

We do not need your gold or grace,
We will pluck feathers from an entire race,
We will spin your meat into veiny lace,
Just to meet the needs of my lovely face!

Cast a glorious shine upon the ice and onyx,
Stolen memories and minerals still make fine tonics,
A taste of love traded for something more honest,
Merely a moment of your soul spent upon us...

Penned by my hand on the 12th of Ero, in the year 880 AF.