I am not who you think I am,
yet you fancy me a mad rifleman.
Take yourself upon the trenches,
and balance your wisdom on splintered wood.

Alas, Freedom iminent.
T'was the night you look upon the clouds
The soft ray that cast along the ends.

I care no more than anyone else upon you, Jelix.
No honor competes to my name in yours.

Fire your musket, clean your flint
Lower your rifle, finish.