it is not who you think that wields the blade
nor any force you have that wins the prize
so now you tremble and now you're afraid
so many colours all this day pervade
the countryside and trouble our surmise
it is not who you think that wields the blade
to cut through centuries and shred the braid
of all our recollection killing lies
so now you tremble and now you're afraid
that what was fair and clean will be unmade
but no one knows what good word to advise
it is not who you think that wields the blade
nor any of the ones who could downgrade
your expectations and crush your disguise
so now you tremble and now you're afraid
and want to argue or else want to trade
some paltry goods for sight of those bright eyes
it is not who you think that wields the blade
so now you tremble and now you're afraid
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