Be good to needing values that strike fear,
Leave the sharpening moods that conspire,
Coming is going from the places of claws
Striking hard at beds of danger and jeopardy.
Leave us sharpening our claws, filling voids,
Strengthening the arms of a way that endangers
So late in this world.
After the mother go to the straight road and part
Ways forever to be distaste and the last group.
Entering is still a rib of the old carcass,
Sorting me out like a fact to be experience.
My leader is a notification, rubbing the bedrooms
With wood, as the relics of old resound in the head.
With glee the claws are struck at by claws,
Followers enter the arena of luck and strike
Down causes of the ensuing conflict.