Dovahkiin

	There'll be no songs about you
	Your deeds will remain untold
	The words that they use
	Leave you limp and confused
	And resigned to grow silently old
	You could handle a weapon
	You could lay down your life in a war
	But you're fat now and weakened
	By the code that they speak in
	Not welcome in this land no more
	But put on your shoes
	The fair lands are calling
	For the last man
	To fall toward them
	From the sun
	You've got boring unlovely depression
	It blunts you and hobbles your will
	It makes you feel sick
	To see these beautiful pricks
	Build careers being beautifully ill
	They flit and they flutter about you
	They're offended and never ashamed
	And everything's shit
	And this shithole called Britain
	Takes your sickness in place of your name
	But put on your shoes
	The fair lands are calling
	For the last man
	To fall toward them
	From the sun
	Put on your shoes
	Leave no letters behind you
	Leave the perfume
	And the dancing
	And run
	And I know it seems like there's no one
	And the street's too sweet to walk on
	And you'll break it with your boots if you go
	And I know it seems like there's no one
	And if there is, then you don't know them
	But I swear that there's someone
	Somewhere
	Someone