"Die and become a demon, what then is justice?
Writhe before the gates, you wicked flower.
Dream of hypocrisy, strike your eyes as they awaken.
Good or evil, no longer discernible...

The two are like great dead people,
you are the lord of darkness that sleeps.
Solitude is your true love,
Perhaps your only ally.

Each and every one of you, bathed with blood.
Born into these times,
O chosen princes.
Fighting is your predetermined thought."