dithyramb
hymn of the exiles
They call us mad, they call us cursed,
For we will not bow to their painted gods—
Their temples reek of incense and decay,
Their priests chant empty words to dying fires.
But we—we keep the old flame alive,
The wild song, the untamed heart!
Let them rot in their gilded cages,
While we ride the storm, unchained!
the Fury’s chant
Hear me, O thundering One,
Who dances on the graves of fallen kings!
The age is sick with trembling hands,
With men who kneel and beg for mercy—
But we remember iron,
The song of swords, the fire in the blood!
Let the weaklings whine of peace,
While we carve our names in lightning!
against the age
O Lord of ecstasy, of frenzy, of the unstoppable tide,
Look upon this withered world and laugh!
They have traded crowns for shackles,
Strength for safety, truth for lies—
But we, the scorned, the unbent, the unbroken,
Still raise the cup, still wield the blade!
Let the age whimper in its chains,
While we dance in the ruins of their shame!