When I was just seventeen, I began to roam
To join an elf and a human fighter
far away from home
Long lanes, lost nights and xp gains
and lots of shiny gold,
And I believed in everything, rolled for me
Roll damage
Roll damage on me
I found myself, in a spooky place
with nothing but my chain and mace
But everyday, I rolled myself, a way hack and hewn
cause I knew due to this, I was going to invade an evil tomb
Roll harder,
roll harder for me
From rags to riches hurled)
Now everyday, in this golden suite, is where I roll my rhythm
The gold has been collecting, from a particularly plentiful find
But I’ve shed my blood in bitter drops until I am consumed
Take the golden wealth, to crown me with a holy plume
make statues of me
make statues of me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem