by Duncan Jones

Some call them far fetched
These words as they’re etched
Not a tale for the meek or the mild
But be true or be hollow
This story that follows
Starts when he was no more than a child ...

The horses all run
When he blocks out the sun
The boldest have even turned back
His legend, it spread
With each hunter left dead
And now few will dare even to track

Survivors all tell us
They make rubies jealous
Black eyes burning red in his rage
He’s the color of night
And he lives for a fight
And he hasn’t grown nicer with age

Say those who have walked
Atop tall castle walls
When a hunter out hunting he’d found
He would come from his cave
Silently and for days
He would circle, sail over the town

Then, “Run! Grab your toys!
Hurry now make some noise
You’re not gonna like this a lot
It’s quite odd I say
That a fine winter’s day
Should ever feel half this hot!

Why the frenzy below me?
Could it be that you know me?
I see some are now changing their tune
To all those rather fond
Of your hunters now gone
I’ve good news! You’ll see them all soon!”

And arrows would hiss
But he’d laugh as they missed
“You’ve been watching a while are you tired?
This is all very cute
How you scramble and shoot
But beware! For you’re playing with fire!”

Then his charm fades away
As the night takes the day
Begins winter air to feel warm
When the kingdom lies flat
He says “So much for that!”
Then he vanishes, just like a storm

Yet still now and then
Foolish kings let their men
Follow up on a rumorous word
A warm winter breeze
Black rocks or burned trees
But the task is completely absurd

While they search and they dare
To go wander up there
I shall not, for what do they know?
All so far been wrong
And now part of this song
Of the untouchable dragon, Volcano!