| Ladies and Squires
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| It is my pleasure to introduce he who bears the Amulet, the slayer of Rongon
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| As you know him and love him
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| Bloody loved them sirens as well, didn’t he?
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| The one, the only Shalim!
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| He’s a clown schooler, crown ruler
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| And I ain’t ever been shook, I’m the
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| Don dada, combater
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| And I never let em off the hook, rather
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| Took ‘em out, good looking out
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| Carving out a brand new nook
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| See I came from a lost tribe, armed with a blade and a dream
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| All hail crown prince Shalim!
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| Scene setter, given the good fortune of the weather
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| Our prince now rolls through the realm
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| And at the helm it’s a top-notch view
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| True
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| Scoping out the kingdom with my hawk eye
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| Do a little barter of Bangali cloth
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| My true love Ashira back at my side
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| Pride swelling in his chest
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| The specter rests beneath the sheen
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| The light of the land Shalim
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| He’s a clown schooler, crown ruler
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| And I ain’t ever been shook, I’m the
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| Don dada, combater
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| And I never let em off the hook, rather
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| Took ‘em out, good looking out
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| Carving out a brand new nook
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| See I came from a lost tribe, armed with a blade and a dream
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| All hail crown prince Shalim!
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| Cool on the throne and equipped with a team Of
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| The finest minds this side of the siren’s island
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| And I’ve spent many moons trying to find the right path
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| Hermit with a staff, nomadic wanderer left behind
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| Within the cave that the oracle chose
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| And slowly the prose draws to a close, so it goes
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| Stone cold
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| Never known to show mercy to foes
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| Burdened with thirst and whole lot of anger
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| I knew what to do as I picked up the dagger
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| All the terror and oppression my people have felt, dealt with
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| Shelter the helpless
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| All manner of position now safe to speak
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| No more shall serfdom plague the weak
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| Seeks collectivization of farmland
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| And arms hang dejectedly no more
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| He’s a clown schooler, crown ruler
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| And I ain’t ever been shook, I’m the
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| Don dada, combater
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| And I never let em off the hook, rather
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| Took ‘em out, good looking out
|
| Carving out a brand new nook
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| See I came from a lost tribe, armed with a blade and a dream
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| All hail crown prince Shalim!
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| Onward on his path and pass the scholastic temple
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| Where Sidium’s citizens mental
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| And physical abilities are strengthened
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| Based on a system of reciprocity
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| Each to his need, each according to ability
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| Teaching the seed and affording them agility
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| Reaching the peek in supporting the fertility
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| Keeping the peace, the forging of stability is crucial
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| No more the role of the pupil
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| Natural leader of men, he feels well in his skin
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| Just then, a member of his council approaches him
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| And he’s trying to get a word in private
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| Although he received an assignment
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| Suggests that on matters where opinion’s divided
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| Whether it would be too bold to propose a vote
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| Should’ve seen it creep through the smoke
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| The days now drag like death
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| Stench of which is filling up his nostrils
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| No apostle he can trust
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| The dust-encrusted crown lies heavy
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| As the age-old aphorism states
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| Plates align tectonic
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| No beauty in the sonnets, now stale
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| Features frozen up, withered and pale
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| And physically frail, branded by the burden
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| Shalim the bitter twisted optimistic no more
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| And what he’d sworn he would abolish he embodies
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| To the west on a distant shore the seed of rongon stands
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| Veins bubbling with vengeance for the broken tusk
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| Sure as the sunrise melts the night
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| Day gives way to the dusk |