Requiem Bandit Queens - Pauper Kings
These are the power-mad fever dreams of pauper kings
We have nothing—we must be everything
We are masters without slaves, gods who need no
worshipping
Through the gutters and galaxies that are reserved for
madmen’s eyes
We sail, like rain against the sky
In the ruins
In encampments fit for bandit queens
In the glow at the end of the day
We will gather with our demons
We will dance, and they will play
Through the gutters and galaxies that are reserved for
madmen’s eyes
The damned steal through the land of the blessed
To taste the sweet fruit of the flesh
When the others lose hope
When the bread runs out
When there’s nowhere to go
When the hammer comes down
We look to the horizon, and all our sufferings lose
their sting
Toast the beheaded, sing: behead every boasted king
We will bear neither chain nor crown
Neither chain nor crown
Meanwhile, ever present, inexorable doom
Sense your death—there it waits, inside you
Another day of borrowed time
Could it be long enough to taste of life