There go I, rambling across your thorny hummock
Gnarled tendrils of your thicket stifling my frailties
Still I mutinously protest your jeremiad against my essence

Your prominence a shadow over my adequacy
I plot my escape from your autocracy and cruel judgement
No longer is my soul nonplussed by puerile desires

The fierce chimera now lies beneath my breast, and I being in fine feather
Yet the vulture after his kind, and true to form you remain to feast
Adamantine that you will not render me obliterated

I retreat to my alcazar, my troops garrisoned along the moor
No longer will you be able curry favor with my sentry
Obsolete, you will fade into nihility from my regard