Swept on the shore by the light of the silver moon's glaive Creeping of dawn through the streets in the rags of a slave Once I was lord of this kingdom from city to sea Now twenty years past the townsfolk are laughing at me Crouched in the hut of the swineherd I don my disguise Faced with the kindness and questions I meet them with lies Dirty and smoke-stained I'm all shriveled flesh, gnarled limb Touched by the hand of the goddess my eyes become grim