Sprinkled by the trappings 
Of words that make the outlines 
Blur on the showplace of made history 
The folk is willed 
To parrot the dished up tale 
The lure of a higher meaning 

Cheat, you had to create 
An enemy stereotype 
To retrieve your absolution 
forthy poor excuse for your foray 
To disengage from the deeps 
of your encumberance 

Behold 
All our gold 
Thousandfold 
Bereave me! 
Declined  [bad word] ensign 
Forever mine! 
Bereave me! 

March in with ten legions 
Whilst the [bad word] weapons not he [bad word] 
But the feather held in your hand 
Penned in blood 
Your tall [bad word] the [bad word] 
Altering it into the battlefield 

I, the spectral guise 
Evoking these baring fears 
Pestering your conscript fathers 
I smile at my demise and while I die 
I cherish the roots of my perseverance