Thalarion. Hellium. The Way Of King. Zeneszám

Gleaming shell of an autumn lie
Fable of right divine
You gained your crowns by heritage
But blood was the price of mine

The throne that I won by blood and sweat
By Perun, I will not sell
For promise of valleys filled with gold
Or threat of the halls of hell

When I was a fighting man
The kettle-drums they beat
The people scattered gold dust
Before my horse's feet

The way of the king

But now I am a great king
The people hound my track
With poison in my wine-cup
And dagger at my back

The way of the king

What do I know of cultured ways
The gilt, the craft and the lie?
I, who was born in a naked land
And bred in the open sky

The subtle tongue, the sophist guile
They fail when the broadswords sing
Rush in and die, dogs,
I was a man before I was a king