Awakened under omens
Of Rome's impending doom
Beware the ides of march, oh, lord
The great will fall in ruins
I stand as supreme lord
A tyrant aged in blood
Woe to the hands that strike me down
Concealed under love
My dismal seed is sleeping
With eyes open in the shadows
A d**h forewarned
Of treason
Of hate
All petitions now are void
Gather as the bloodletting begins
Stand tall with your knife in hand
Oh, pardon me thou bleeding piece of Earth
That I am meek and Gentle with these butchers
Thou are the ruins of the noblest of men
That ever lived in the tide of the times
Over thy wounds I prophesize
A curse shall light on all men
One of fury and strife
Infants quartered
With the hands of war
Pity choked
Tear the tongue from my mouth
Feed it to the people
Pompey can rest his feet
In my blood