It has much at it as outré .
like Hades at its grim , as at Mylae .
but if you no soon heave to its glare .
preordination will later hop you at its glare .
it hangs upon you , grabs you , binds you .
you may swerve to lore as wide as bayou .
but at Achilles' heel there will be the fell .
drink Ichor but you will surely behold spell .
oh ! futile of your endeavor , your intent to escape .
but it lays already moist ; the fact in safe grasp
out of the deepest of your dream does it dangle .
fame or beggar prithee , you keep the right angle .
as murmur from enchanted night it does sweep .
never retreat cause Morpheus' head at river did weep .
stop bold  and let the dagger pierce you thoroughly ,
your heart ; instead of running so you deem doughty .
the destiny is low as soil , destiny as sky's high .
glory is no shuck , but my destiny i behold it  nigh .
empire of lording glory , tent of cold hell .
im high up lean , but i dont hold my head to sell .
lunacy is flowing , hark up ! none dictate my route .
if i cant feel my crazy stunt my life's mark is rout .
Rodrigue as tu du ceour ?
tout autre que moi a du ceour .
oh destiny ; one for the homely chore's devotion .
other for adventuresome daring noble motion .