The rebellious sons were born from the tears of the gods
Kneeling in the dust before the banner of the serpent and mouse
Their captain was turned to stone and his voice was heard no more
He is still on his knees outside the raven witches house

Treachery befell the oldest son before the sails were tacked
He'd come to kill the witch's queen but stumbled and was seen
Mocked by his captors, he died loyal to his gods
Refusing to confess, he recited Genesis 4:15

An Asia Minor poet who was loyal to the sons
His gods had been exiled; he vowed to avenge the disgrace
He came to the court of the queen who'd betrayed them
As he drew his dagger he cried out "How does gold taste?"

Fate decides our life span by measuring out thread and then cutting it
The gate to hell was left open and there's little concern in shutting it

Unworthy to wear jewelry, the whore queen dressed in jade
Born under the seventh sign, her sins can't be forgiven
She betrayed the sons in the Sicilian vespers war
Yet her bones were buried with pageant by the old river prison

The queen was slain while drinking a cup of her savior's blood
They laid her out to be viewed dressed only in white lilies
Covered in ivory she was as false as Constantine's donation
Destiny cannot be bribed as proven by the death of Achilles

Fate decides our life span by measuring out thread and then cutting it
The gate to hell was left open and there's little concern in shutting it