Crystal King, Prince of the dead lands.
Dead mind workers and slave hands.
Built on corrupted bones and dark magic confusion tomes.
Life thirsty wings glide on the damp air’s breeze.
Lower down, on the ground, paranoid characters stumble with unease.

Dark Pictures hang my minds walls.
As I stumble down endless corridor halls.
Searching for the source of the chaos at hand
Deathly doom, I can feel it all across the Crystal King’s land.
One crystal ball at the center of it all.

With the swirling air and fogged glass bare.
Within one sees the dreams that one believes.
Controlling it all from a mountain top.
Powerful and forgetful, the lord never sees.
The infinite love in a single speck of dew on a leaf filled tree.