The tryant rises over the city
The crowd's minds in wiped obedience
The free-people's prince flees swiftly
His savior anonymously leads him in silence

The elder, masked and cloaked, leads,
Thorns following around him,
the child Prince through the weeds
To hiding on the cliff's rim

Twelve years in the mountain
A youthful wolf looks over the river
Thinking he surely would've been slain
Had the king of thorns been any less swifter