I play at bad to serve the good
'Twixt the shadows and the light;
The tyrant's terrors I've withstood
In the strongholds of the night,
For to break the evil I once swore to serve
On the path that no-one sees,
The narrow path that no-one sees.
In bitter anger I was raised,
In sorrow I was schooled;
Forever scorned and never praised,
By bitterness I'm ruled.
My wits and wit will armour me from harm
And my tongue shall be my sword,
My cutting tongue shall be my sword.
The comrades who think me their friend,
It's them that I'll betray,
While those whose lives I would defend
Think me their enemy;
And the fools I teach will never understand
That my scorn is half a jest,
Bitter jest -
Who have I left to share a jest?
I slew the friend who saved my life
To serve his grand design,
I go in grief and bitter strife
To the exile's death that's mine.
Now every man's hand's raised to strike me down,
And who will mourn for me?
Who is there that will mourn for me?