In the mare valley of wink,
I bore witness to the heavens close;
giant plates far from meek
assembled to one to trap the foe

For precious were us,
that his queen valley he gave
but our stabs of Corday
left her a dead Marat.

So with no linger of shame
that his queen we defame,
his heavens he closed with intent
the sham´er dwell in the mist she rot

Then I unwinked
to see wrongs mounted on thy steed
to blasphemy in recoil for thy meed
by the tongues of thy deed
soon to leave 3rd rock valley closed