I shall have no Recompense
For what I've lived through.
I require no Reward
For me to stay true:
I refuse to sell myself to those above.
For every time I've had to fence with you, my life
For every battle that I've won—for every strife,
My last request is to preserve these blazing scars
That have been torn into my hide
That have been branded in my mind
For to lose the record of this life,
To discard my mortal soul,
To relinquish who I am,
Would be to give True Death a toll.
And should the seraphs in heaven, generous as they are,
Should they offer me a home,
I would decline.
For I have no better place to die,
No other site where I'll recline
Than in the place whence I have come—
From in the Earth and in the Brine.