It is truly the perfect being: Its armor is tenfold sheilds. Its teeth, swords. Claws in the guise of greeting hands. How does it sleep at night, This tyrant- Heaping slaves on the pyre Just to watch ambition burn. It is truly the perfect being: It's armor is tenfold sheilds, And from its tongue, fire. ~ Could any being verily bask in malevolence? As if its indifference might pardon it. This Tyrant. He is the fatherless. With the arrogance of a being that insists it created itself. What can it create? This uninspired muse rules only barren lands. It cannot create a thing. ~ When the public speaks the truth, Simply tear it down.. Dissent, and smolder. Your thoughts are law, great dragon. Just spare me and mine, While I bide my time Knowing you well, The enemy. ~ Cover may the everymen, I show no recoil for A would-be dragon, The common man is the consummate dragon - The poorest excuse of a man. ~ My chest to sheilds. My teeth to swords. My hands to claws. And fire... Now we can make war. A titan against a titan.