Me the champion.
There I was, the champion of the Arena.
Everyone's shining star.
I've slayen wasps, bandits even the cruel balverines.
Ventured through the Hobbes caves, braved the dark wood forests.
But one thing I haven't gotten... is the thump of a beating heart.
I've got no halo above my head, nor a head of hair.
I can slaughter brutes. I own a bandit seal. I do not care.
I'm not a merciful Hero and do not wish to be,
I make even warriors want to flee.
Battle wounds cover my body as I begin to stare, sometimes wishing to myself
that they were not there.
I was scarred for life when bandits raided my town.
You kidnapped my sister, and brought my optimism down.
I let my anger make the best of me, for I do not wish,
that once I get a suitable rod I'll be able to fish.
I defeat you and get stronger and stronger. For you are alive...no longer.
Great big horns cover my head
My evilness became what I dread.
My eyes are a piercing fire red
like the blood of my victims.
I've gone on quests and succeeded in all,
more and more hero's I battle, fall.
I've saved hostages and rescued villagers
But I'm king of pillagers.
I've killed my own childhood friend,
brought my blind sister's life to an end.
I go around looking big and fierce.
With the obsidian sword I use to pierce.
I live my life knowing I have nothing to do.
I've beaten the game. No time to cry "boo-hoo."
Maybe I'll learn my lesson when I'm stiff in my grave,
How to be a proper man, and learn to behave.