Swept on the shore by the light of
the silver moon's glaive
Creeping of dawn through the streets
in the rags of a slave
Once I was lord of this kingdom from city to sea
Now twenty years past the townsfolk
are laughing at me

Crouched in the hut of the swineherd
I don my disguise
Faced with the kindness and questions
I meet them with lies
Dirty and smoke-stained I'm all
shriveled flesh, gnarled limb
Touched by the hand of the goddess
my eyes become grim