Hold your mouth, Your Majesty.
Hold your blades away from our devotion
It is our voice, our will
Our democracy.
Who are you to tell us
that we are being fooled?
No, with all respect we would have to rebel
against this nuisance that shattered our realm.
Hold your anger, Your Majesty.
As angels have already prepared your throne of broken glass
on the peak of heaven, like you asked
But instead, you shall live in torment
As that tyrannizing glare never cease to leave your eyes
Death is right for you, Your Majesty.
We will grant you your most gracious statue
Disguising the filth of your figure
and the wickedness of your shadow
Rest in peace, Your Majesty.
As long as you are wondering up there,
Do not worry.
There shall be no more darkness in this country.
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