The men they circled round about,
their fates in hands of rock
A crouor pool of heated hate,
attracting ore to dock

And blood got tossed the meteor,
the sparks they flew askew
For death befell the monarch's nest,
though Queens lived life anew

And maybe they'd been living in
a casket full of lies
Or possibly they were not braced
for crimson, blood-red skies

But either way the sheet of flame,
upon the shallows fell
A claret ring of bitter gore;
the gateway into Hell