Chained to the Wheel of Pain for an adolescence,
Raised by Huns, teaches one anguish, twenty years of it.
Are we also to assume it stitches slabs of muscle on one
Like a heavy wool coat on a hanger?
Before I became Governor, but after I stole away the Princess
James Earl Jones killed my ultimate metal girlfriend
By straightening a snake and firing it with a bow
Deep into her chest. I drew the length of it out of her.
Her corpse exploded into fireworks on the pyre.
I remember her jagged, black and white,
Camouflaged in her Anvil of Crom warpaint,
Patting her scimitar in her open palm,
Just before she cut down ten strong men.
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