(Verse 1)
A czar, five stars on his epaulettes
Hypnotic charm disarms second guess
No other man stands with him neck to neck
Bullets and shards for the slightest of barbs
Soldiers view him as a mix of Midas and Mars
A deity of sorts, these are the reports
Decree issued, the speech he keeps it short
Willingly they bleed, no need to reinforce
Scorch, the earth's surface at the source
Black gold underneath, that cold underneath
Trapped soul, attack foes, control the street
Power consumed, with the pressure of the ocean deep
His men? Intense and very honored
High spirits down in the trench like Mariana
Foul posthumous stench and carried armor
Lust for the influence quenched with buried karma

(Verse 2)
Five below, twelve inches of snow
Numbers on each side decide the show
Town sees the end, coming from the hillside
Stand tall, rather than crawl and still die
Fate setting in, ending with a cold state
Severed limbs, crimson on the snowflakes
Credit win to the engine of the whole take
His dreaded grin, if you've seen it then you know hate
No prisoners, screams were vociferous
Genesis of a reign, so precipitous
There was one girl with an umbrella
Nine years old, ran away with young fella
Got the flint and potatoes up in the knapsack
Turn their backs on the carnage and peace, that's that
They journey through the forest with the pressure mounting
And through the trees, see a cabin nestled in the mountains

(Verse 3)
The boy is nineteen and nice with a scope
Or knife to your throat, trained from long range and close
On his own since the massacre, years as a scavenger
Driven by revenge, a ride with no passengers
Heading to the general's estate, shells penetrate
Skulls of three guards, and the clock reads ten to eight
For them its mate, but the king's got moves
Rook kicks the door down, king grabs the four pound
And slides, one tile to the left
Crouched in the kitchen, kid, watch your step
The scene is set, bullets start to whiz by
One caught the wrist of evil's human disguise
One to the kneecap, wasn't quick to react
Hero walks up with the barrel between his eyes
And smiles, a win almost on the scorecard
Felt a dagger in his neck, should've killed four guards

(Verse 4)
That girl is now a novelist
At age forty, her pen's more like an obelisk
Eighth story she wrote was the best
Details of a slaughter and atrocities met
By two survivors, prose had depth like scuba divers
Felt like you or I was, there when we read it
Same for the antagonist, now in his old age
He could feel the guilt after skimming a whole page
Sinning the most ways, was how he arrived
At this point, book finished, feeling hollow inside
Put a gun to his temple and a hollow inside
Catharsis for a heartsick author offered