Just because you now use your spear
as a walking stick, doesn't change
your past's sanguinary veneer
men, women, and children, your range.

All for us to sing of your κλέος,
the shades come back to haunt,
your glory, your fame, your albatross.
dreams of slit throats and screams daunt.

You have given up bloodshed,
we no longer sing your praises,
now you can finally rest your head,
and the enemy thanks you for your hiatus.