Heavy sits the crown… Witness this bountiful empire of sand It fills my heart with despair and regret Heavy sits the crown…. All that I have willed Has left me betrayed My life’s work Buried and decayed Tremble in fear Upon these ruins Despair o’mighty Gaze upon this blessed decay Reminiscent, my body shakes In fits of disconsolation Recalling past endeavours Condemned to heart-torn abdication Once, I strode in licentious glee Upon the crushed bones of lesser men Trampled into dust by my decree From the swamps and mud, an empire was born Glorious and mighty beyond measure Temples erected in my honour A profane and triumphant transgressor Cunningly, unbeknownst to me This entire time I was being deceived With every passing victory Drew me closer and closer To harrowing, abysmal defeat Heavy sits the crown…. Who could have known that the dynasty I birthed Was destined for the graves? A legacy of spectres, children of the crypt These worn eyes no longer grasp this horrific masquerade My lands once fertile and ripe Now only muck and sludge remains Fruit that was once a sweet delight Crumbles to bitter ash upon my tongue A kingdom forged in brazen iron Is now rust and corrosion The temples and palaces where I was worshipped Consumed by sand and erosion Deceptively, unbeknownst to me I was not the true King of all Kings My arms embrace the morose reality We are all slaves to a quietus destiny All that I have created, is now interred into the grave Annihilated by time, ravaged and conquered as slaves My kingdom, my empire swept away like castles made of sand Destined to perish, in ruin, they cannot be saved With wrinkled lip and cold command This shattered visage bids you welcome To this empire of sand “To the victor goes the spoils” as I was once told Misled, conquered and undone, let the truth unfold We are nothing but grains of sand, in the hourglass Concede defeat, Master Time conquers all, lo and behold! Even the most powerful of men are powerless to the machinations Of time! A dynasty of corpses to witness this ascension As sovereign ruler of phantoms upon a dominion of dust To rule from this throne of dirt, a macabre succession The dawning revelation that bursts in my head I wear this crown of dust, for a kingdom of the dead A crown made of ash for the monarch of the dead