For even Zothique will die
when under stars we lie,
and we say we cannot fly
so lie when falsehoods we weave,
whether or no we grieve.
It matters not
in this age of rot,
fallow is fane or grot
of god. Listen to these lines:
fallow is fane or grot
in this age of rot,
it matters not
whether or no we grieve.
So lie when falsehoods we weave,
and we say we cannot fly
when under stars we lie,
for even Zothique will die.