Planesinger
by Dal’jat Storm’s-Source — a Chameleon “acting in” as a Dispossessed
Four-Fold Furnace, answer our prayer!
We only seek your knowledge.
For it is you who teaches,
Your pain that breaches,
And your touch that sears us aware.
Red Prison, preserve our souls!
We wish solely to live forever…
Our gifts to you,
Our opponents askew,
And hundred-pence nightmare foals.
Stinking Pit, tyrant’s domain,
To power, the road is harsh.
For the tanar’ri attack,
And the baatezu fall back,
Thus the Blood War so came.
Three Glooms, Answer our call!
Your hopelessness is inevitable.
We shall make our kip,
Before Dandy Will’s whip,
The Dark monoliths stand so tall.
Iron cubes, Destroy our will!
Make us envision your light and woe.
We shall crush our foe,
With Orders from General Xo,
Much goblin blood we will spill…
Howling land, why do you yell?
What secrets are you hiding?
From the pits of Hruggek’s home,
To the bubbling Styx’s foam,
There is much to learn in Hell.
Ah, my lair. The Great Abyss,
Whose triumphs scar the Multiverse.
We will soon be freed
From under Graz’zt’s creed
And reign with eternal bliss.
