Center of the corridor
Sits a seat
One for those with immeasurable feats
It sits above the third floor

It is old and rusty
Wrinkled and dusty
He who rules from his Iron throne
Shall forever hear the ominous drone
Accompanied by sleepless nights
And dastardly fights

A king must be strong
Mentally ready to bear
Burdens of the chair
Must be able to right the wrong

He must Love, be feared
If these requirements have been cleared
He may sit in this throne
And call this place his home