In beds of stone the wasted kings

reject their long embrace

And ache to split their cursed tombs

but writhe in sweet disgrace

-

Upon the path four strangers lay

Forged into blood of Khyber's tools

To light the pillar and burn again,

With a nations jewel

-

A body hard fought, rent into five,

Divided among many's lust.

Now kept asunder, by Talon and Tile,

Lest all return to Dust.