In the hall of The Melancholy King,
Deadly nightshade and misery swirl in the air.
No matter how much you struggle, you can’t do a thing.
When you approach, you must bend a wing.
One is left wondering how they would fare
In the hall of The Melancholy King.
Despite your noise, as your swords swing,
All are defeated and entrapped within his snare.
No matter how much you struggle, you can’t do a thing.
As you cough and choke, he will demand you sing.
It would be difficult, for not everything is fair
In the hall of The Melancholy King.
You comply out of fear, your wounds start to sting.
But, surrounded with gloom, all you can do is stare.
No matter how much you struggle, you can’t do a thing.
One final attempt, to survive and fourth spring,
But your life is already his, and he does not share
In the hall of The Melancholy King.
No matter how much you struggle, you can’t do a thing.
