Invective Epilogue

You are seized by your own defeat, cornered, maimed by the wolves, your subjects, who feed on the air where your soul once existed.

(Now imprisoned)

Were given high order, descent into your own disatisfaction relieved you all your compassion, now your tongue leeks sickness, expecting us to kneel into you, No! we will not bow before you!

Dependent to lies, that is just one crutch, but soon they all must shatter, leading way to your plea, call out, but it is slienced among the moaning of the wolves, your followers.