You have painted the walls of this castle red,
Filled each brick with a pound of dripping dread,
And cleared the walkway from the garden bed
From which minions rise from the land of dead.
Your muscles do ache from the shackling strain,
Adrenaline courses through every vein,
The darkness threatens to turn you insane,
But you do hold your sabre out to reign.
Folly! Folly! You deny their advance,
Charging headfirst with your bloodthirsty lance,
Caught into a state of demonic trance,
You no longer give life a second chance.
Burning, burning, your whole world falls to ash,
But you will not stop ’till you crash, crash, crash.