Let us fly to the ends once again.
Our parchment was forged-
let us loosen the scourge
and hurl the full force of our men.
The treasure is lost in the deep.
With swords, a rout-
we’ll hang, no doubt
with none but our whores to weep.
Why smile in the face of death?
We chose this road
put our marks on the code
to make mayhem until our last breath.
A time we all knew would come.
Our powder is wet.
They’re flying fleurettes.
Outnumbered outlaws, outgunned.
We’ll see you in depths of glory.
No yield or surrender
this fight they’ll remember
and this fire is all that is holy.