Paroles de Conquerors

The die is cast, your ferry waits, genuflect, your match is met, like Charlemagne come to say the grace, with Saxony to be razed: I haven't come to stay. Conquerors lay before my turned thumb, if I say pallbearers will march you off this earth: it is done. Mark me, a sign of the end comes, there will be no threnody, no four horsemen riding out, just an unfurling of my black flag.