• And death will come on wings of song,
    a song of long and winding guile.
    And in the end, your end I wend,
    And in the end, a harp will smile.

    As darkness falls, sun sets down,
    He strikes against the bloody crown.
    The last you hear, is voice of rhyme,
    As you draw your breath, one last time.

    With mission done, and target dead,
    With quick due haste, the Harper fled.
    Back to guild, and out of harm,
    Lived he did, to spread his charm.