Hero's tears bless her sword in the lair of the Basilisk,
The purpose of her quest in sight, the sacred golden disk,
The key to boundless riches and the door to timeless fame,
She steps across the skulls of people who believed the same.
The sweat drips from her forehead and it runs into her eyes,
She wipes it with her hand and keeps her gaze upon the prize,
The Basilisk is stirring and it's tail begins to twitch,
She reaches in her pouch to yield the magic of the witch.
She casts seeds into the pool wherein the water grants them life,
They grow in to glass peacocks each one sharper than a knife,
In a hall of flying mirrors you can never be alone,
The Basilisk sees its reflection and it turns itself to stone.
She rides back to the city and she starts to climb the hill,
People falling to their knees to honour her that made the kill,
At the gateway to the temple priests have gathered to resist,
But she scatters them like leaves with just a flicking of her wrist.
Aside from their false idols in the candle-speckled gloom,
Stands the deus ex machina in a corner of the room,
She grips the golden disk between a finger and her thumb,
Slides it right into the Juke Box and puts Frank Sinatra on.
The purpose of her quest in sight, the sacred golden disk,
The key to boundless riches and the door to timeless fame,
She steps across the skulls of people who believed the same.
The sweat drips from her forehead and it runs into her eyes,
She wipes it with her hand and keeps her gaze upon the prize,
The Basilisk is stirring and it's tail begins to twitch,
She reaches in her pouch to yield the magic of the witch.
She casts seeds into the pool wherein the water grants them life,
They grow in to glass peacocks each one sharper than a knife,
In a hall of flying mirrors you can never be alone,
The Basilisk sees its reflection and it turns itself to stone.
She rides back to the city and she starts to climb the hill,
People falling to their knees to honour her that made the kill,
At the gateway to the temple priests have gathered to resist,
But she scatters them like leaves with just a flicking of her wrist.
Aside from their false idols in the candle-speckled gloom,
Stands the deus ex machina in a corner of the room,
She grips the golden disk between a finger and her thumb,
Slides it right into the Juke Box and puts Frank Sinatra on.