It shines so bright
On the very sight
like the rigil kentaurus
It seems like fire
Filled with desire
And it shows a life in it
It seem its wicked
Something about it
Not certain, to doubt it
Magnetic and magical
A hundred year old
Structured in gold
With scars of infinite battles
It seems its wicked
But the brightness of it
The spirit of it
The light it had of its own
The power it shows
The secret it knows
Kept preventing its dawn
And it then it was known
Certainly, it was wicked.