In a cold room, littered with silver and gold,
A child sat in the middle brimming with pride.
He fixed his revenge, and now they're all dead,
Those people whom got in his way.

His mother, his father, his sister and brother...
now they all lay... under the dirt with a daisy to mark their graves.
Behing that grin was a sadistic sneer, glad to be ruling this land.

And now... seventeen years later he sits in the same spot and cries.
He cries for those who got in his way, and he cries for those who did not.
For he ruled with a whip and a crooked smile...
he made his people die...

They starved and they wept,
but their lives were not kept... those poor souls whom was dirtied by him.

In that room of silver and gold,
He waited for them, and they broke down the door...
Poor man, a sinner of evil...
They lopped his head and chopped off his hands...

That man... in the room dripping with gold and silver.'
Sweet dreams of jewels and weath... the man met his end.