I must die or become a god tonight,
taste the earth or the sky,
with a conviction that shall make
even Prometheus white and pale!
I shall be both the cold Winter and Spring,
as humble and accepting
as the first but as haughty too,
basking in the lush and green hue!
The heavy mountains shall float in the air,
like cotton clouds stripped bare,
as I preserve in destruction
and drive the raindrops to their home!
Yes, I guess the world will know tonight that it’s me,
when I lay siege and override my destiny!