It's getting late now, your seed has grown, if you were rising, you're getting small*
You hoped you're special, one of a kind, once on your side, [bad word] out.
Isn't it?
I'm done with searching, I did my time!
Then why so fragile, so unkind? I'm through [bad word]  I've settled down. Are there no things you left behind? You think you're better since you have seen abominations to match your sins. You'll set it all right and all you need is just more time to fetch your blade.
I'm through with fighting, an open wound, my flesh is tired, my blade got stained. But when it [bad word] down to dust, I'll kill you if I can, I'll help you if I must. Deceiver, if I am faithful then I'm unkind; as I was rising, you kept me warm, as I got special you made me crawl.
You fool, you have been told - you're mortal, you thought you're not. The bells are ringing, your seed is going to die.
It's been hard since I left the garden. I don't feel so good, but I'll be no coward. I'm [bad word] back, not even for the summer. I'm not shaking hands with my friendly wardens. Tell me that you'll miss me; tell me that you fought for me. Lie to me, that you'll miss me, fool me that you never left me.

It's getting late now, your seed has grown, if you were rising, you're getting small*
You hoped you're special, one of a kind, once on your side, [bad word] out.
Isn't it?