Cackle for a madman,
Perchance a rainbow at the wake,
Who bet all in on a pair of Kings,
And both kings died.
Dredge up the links of iron,
Chains are the only cure,
For the tyrant cometh after.
Rising from the ashes.
When madness brinks the shackles,
Drink up all the quicksilver,
For gold is the cure,
And wanting is the sickness.
Forever dead,
Yet forever free,
Bet on dead hearts beating,
The ghost ship calls.
The trickster kneels for thee.
