A single life so worthless, that poor fly, Sooner than its timely moment to die, As commanded by my unnerving will, Its incompetent life I chose to ****.
Put more simply, for disturbing my peace, Its feeble and destitute life I ceased. Yet my bloodstained hands always remained clean, Once crimeful killing had become routine.
What almighty and sinful God am I For unsparingly judging who must die By my sword, without remorse or regret, The slaughtered fly under my gavel, I forget.
An evil power from no source or spring Springs power in me like a maddened King.