Upon the building of my land
The world I hold within my hands
Black and white have merged to gray
A vital essence gone astray

A faultless kingdom, far from old
Does surely hold its weight in gold
Yet purchases cannot be made
Each time my currency is paid

King Midas, with his golden touch
Could not produce so half as much
As what you purely cost, because
Your value breaks all pricing laws

Cotton pickers, working mills,
Factories and miners' drills
Cannot labor hard as I
Do to gain your trusting lies

Packs of bloodfolk, soldiers, friends
Brace my will 'til time's long end
Yet they remain revolting thoughts
Until I grasp what I have sought

Mountains, valleys, rivers, coasts
Scenery enjoyed the most
Juxtaposed to your sweet air
Seem like wastelands set a-flare

Drenched in darkness is my place
Hidden from your glowing face
Awaken soon and shed your light
Warm the land and slay my night

Replete is lack of what I feel
Forever hoping for appeal
From you; yet you remain remiss
My presents always you dismiss