From out the darkness shadows born
Of flaming tongue and fallow scorn
In taming rung, the chains are torn
From out the curdled Dragyn

O god of smoke and scaled peaks
From which the dread of heaven leaks
Berue the stew of molt that speaks
In shredding claws of skin

Not gold. Not bolding
Not power’s holding
Not showers folding towns in flame
Nor hours scolding blistered flesh
In meshing molds of gain

Tis souls it seeks
Tis spirits leaking out the holes
​​​​​​​​​​​  ​​​​​​​​of never peaking one’s own roles
That ever stow within

With fear and flame
​​​​​​​​​​​  ​​​​​​​​and shadow fame
​​​​​​​​​​​  ​​​​​​​​and mad disdain in battled game
​​​​​​​​​​​  ​​​​​​​​of ever never knowing
Clawing here the minds that peer
Distracting acts of blinded steering
Knowing shows of flaming fear
Allow no inner going