In the realm of writhing maggots

Rule the sleeping kings and queens,

Loyal knights and slavish peasants

Give their essence for the kingdom’s wreath.

Wind may sunder stone or mountain

But their reign holds still supreme

Timeless tendrils tug at living beings

The Cursed offspring, product of a wicked scheme.

Capture death and put her on the gallows

Just another head to roll

Royal greed is still a sin, it swallows

Souls with finesse, instead of brute force.

Now the endless plain calls to hunters

Who in life used traps most vile,

Aspiring to trample fields of Asphodel

They’ll teach the boiling sinners proper guile.

A palace in the stars is the final destination

But the path is narrow and the going difficult,

The corpulent soul needs no rumination

To choose the one his carriage can use.

Minos is expecting high company,

so beat the singing horses down to bone,

His abode seems like the fabled Elysium

With the ultimate king on his frozen throne.