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kyle stibbs - the good poet lyrics

[good poet, timmund]
we could have done this the easy way
but now you’ll know power unbridled
you’ve given me reason to play
an opus, my final recital

if you won’t use your blade
then i’ll use you to get my way
you’ve been a slave to fate
now you’re slave to me and the words i say

when i sing like this, you can’t resist (what are you_)
get on your knees and draw your blade
put the tip to your own lips
i’ll k!ll myself when you’re done away with
this isn’t how you had to play this

now you’ll be first to die
but i’ll see you on the other side

[martin]
(goo_roo_roo oo_roo_roo ra_ta_ta ah_ta_ta)

[narrator]
melody is interrupted so it’s power it’s disrupted
beast and martin come runnin’
bear hound holds the door shut and
timmund slowly stands to his feet, says
[timmund, spoken]
martin, keep on playing
leave the templar to me

[narrator, spoken]
the good poet stands and draws a large ebony blade from a concealed compartment in the organ
he turns to face timmund, eyes black and face crinkled with rage
he moves lazily, gracefully
like a panther as he slowly begins to cross the collosseum_like amphitheatre
the wounded bear hound holds the watch back at the door
martin sweats as he continues to play his lute
timmund and the good poet each tighten their grip on their respective weapons
the stage is set

begin

(various grunts from timmund and the good poet)

[good poet]
not bad. grahhh!
give me that lute!

[martin]
(goo_roo_roo _oo_roo_roo rahg—)

[timmund, spoken]
no!
[narrator, spoken]
timmund watches in horror as the good poet lifts martin off the ground by his neck

[good poet, spoken]
you’re playing is
amateur

[narrator, spoken]
as timmund rushes across the amphitheatre
the good poet tosses martin onto the ground
and in one swift deliberate motion
stabs martin in the chest

[timmund, spoken]
martin!!!

[good poet, spoken]
don’t look so sad, “chosen one”
you’ll be joining him soon enough

[timmund, spoken]
i have your gift for you

(various grunts from timmund and the good poet)

[good poet, spoken]
come on! k!ll me! hahaha_
thank you

[narrator]
timmund runs to martin’s side
tears flowing from his eyes
a knight who failed his squire

he rolls martin on his back
and shocked, lets out a gasp
martin’s still alive

he opens his coat, unb_ttons his shirt
he sees a small wound but it should be much worse
something deflected the tip of the blade
timmund looks in martin’s pocket
right over his heart is a
shattered model train

- kyle stibbs

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