Gather and squeeze

We are going to gather our forces

Against our mortal enemies

The thieves of Elysium will bow down to us

As we squeeze them out of house and home

They have held our spirit at ransom

No it is not random

This has been planned

Since the Romans left Britain

But now we can squeeze them dry

Wringing them out

You my friend are not my enemy

Though we may disagree often

The enemy lives in the guarded palace

Where the Romans still reign

But instead of sword

They reign with tales of false light

False sons

And false souls.