And thou art all but sheep
Born to breed and die
And I art one too, but more, a ram with horns
With which I will wrest all I can from this mortal realm.
And yes, I have spokest past that one should know ones place,
But at once, one must understand not everything one deserves is easily attained.
Much also, must be torn free, like hard flesh from bone to be feasted on.
And if you will not join me, very well.
I shall leave thee all with my hoof’s dust prints,
To die far away, with the true, worldly experience of ten scores of thee all.