Price ranges:
2,000 shares: 5 lines.
5,000 shares: 10 lines.
8,000 shares: 15 lines.
Anything over 15 lines will need to be worked out on a case-by-case basis.
Here's a bit of my work:
A long time ago, he went to jail.
For beating a man, who'd sent him to fail.
Twenty-five years, and he had but one friend.
When he got released, he said he'd wait for him in the end.
Not too long ago, the joy left his friend's smile
He told the man to wait, he'd be gone for a while.
He walked to the station, beaten by the rain.
And when heard it approaching, he jumped in front of the train.
He looks in the mirror, just before it could crack.
A tear in his eye, as he turns his back.
His head hanging low, he walks away.
A soul beaten and bloodied, at the end of the day.
He sit's there wonderin', soaked in whisky and dope,
Who is the king of all our crushed hopes?
A pistol in his pocket, a tremblin' hand,
Askin' the heavens what will be different,
With his blood on the sand.
"The sweat, Claudius? Can you feel it in your bones? It's the combined disappointment of all your ancestors, weeping seething, burning, black tears at your failure. And as you gasp for air in the boiling inferno, like a snake in the waves I shall come, sword in hand, a living shadow. You betrayed me long ago, comrade. And I have to come to make good on my promise. You will not know when I have come until it is too late, when I have cleaved your heart from your breast and your lifeblood runs down to the handle of my blade. Only then will you be repaid the injustice you cast upon me, all those years ago."
I shall not pretend,
That this is the end,
Even as I crawl with my skin flayed.
I'll stare Him in the eyes,
Until one of us dies,
With my sword, my daemons I've slayed.
The journey ended at last,
Peace made with my past,
My sins, they caress and float around me.
In my soul, I know,
They watch me from below,
Pulling strings I have yet to forsee.
The collective hammers of time,
Could not cast me into hell.
I braved the Devil's chime,
Swam through the Leviathan's swell.
I drag myself from the waters,
Forced my enemy to stare me in the eye.
My curse had killed his sons and daughters,
From the grave, I came to watch him die.
In the centre of infinity,
Lies the thing that should not be.
It writhes and squirms in contented jubilee.
Passified by a court of malignant band,
Who must forever dance and cast by hand,
A sickly symphony by pipe and drum and,
Vocals hoarsened by gaping throat bringing song,
Lest the Great Beast stirr from its eternal throng,
Of slumber yet separate from reality and wrong.
Seething, sleeping chaos,
Blinded idiot sloth:
Daemon Sultan Azathoth!
On my tongue, I tasted the smoke.
On my skin, I felt the fire.
In my nose, I smelt the burning flesh.
As we burnt the witch at the funeral pyre.
Her fingertips, we did peel back.
With a barbed whip, her back we flayed.
With an iron, we scorched out her eyes.
And her daemon coven, we have slayed.
These wretched lands, they shall be razed.
Smouldering ruins and corpses, they shall be salted.
For heresy, they have been condemned.
For it is a wrathful god we have exalted.
Our divinely guided king, commanded this crusade.
The heretics, we shall smite.
For they worship a wretched, bastard god.
When it is our god, we know is right.
From the waves, the leviathan rose before me,
Its thousand eyes burning a crimson red.
Waves ravage us as it crashes through the sea,
To feast upon the corpses of the dead.
As we stare upon this lumbering mound,
Ocean air thick with primal fear,
They go mad from its nightmarish sound,
Yet it whispers softly in my ear:
"Thine eyes gaze upon thou's damnation,
This storming night shall be your last.
Birthed not of the womb of Lord nor Satan,
In these soft rains, the die has been cast."
Long ago, people strived in the sweltering air,
Plowing and tilling lords' fields with meticulous care.
Now we lay broken and bloated, vultutes filling the sky,
Laying with diseased comrades, begging gods to let us die.
Those few priests remaining tell us to be thankful and pray,
But they fall silent as with dying strength they hear us say:
Kings and Clergy offer salvation,
But they speak only lies.
This is suredly our damnation,
As everyone around us dies.
The abbey has bars over its wooden doors,
Packed with the corpses of clergy and nobles and whores.
In the stone monolith, they hoped to escape the world,
As outside, apocalypse upon us unfurled.
As time wound on, miasma washed upon them like a sea,
Daemons laughed, angels cried at the bitter irony:
Our majesty dines on fine mutton and wine,
As breath vanishes from his subjects' lungs.
Lucifer's infernal chime, beats upon our end times,
As our dying kingdom's swan song is sung.
In an empty kingdom, ruins are covered in snow,
The plague that killed it having vanished long ago.
In makeshift tombs, ancient bodies lie eternally,
For new souls, festering ghouls wait patiently.
Miasma rises up, ready to burst from the ground,
Rotting hands rise near the surface, quietly waiting to be found.
Icy claws break the surface, as new footsteps tread upon the sod,
Pillars of plague rise, poised to poison the new god.
From ancient dust, a nightmare titan returns,
New victims are claimed, miasma within them churns:
Feared myth leaps from the page,
A curse from a forgotten age.
This doomsday happened in front of our terrified eyes.
The extinction of a race,
End of society's pace.
Our final page is cast in this scourge's die.
For beating a man, who'd sent him to fail.
Twenty-five years, and he had but one friend.
When he got released, he said he'd wait for him in the end.
Not too long ago, the joy left his friend's smile
He told the man to wait, he'd be gone for a while.
He walked to the station, beaten by the rain.
And when heard it approaching, he jumped in front of the train.
He looks in the mirror, just before it could crack.
A tear in his eye, as he turns his back.
His head hanging low, he walks away.
A soul beaten and bloodied, at the end of the day.
He sit's there wonderin', soaked in whisky and dope,
Who is the king of all our crushed hopes?
A pistol in his pocket, a tremblin' hand,
Askin' the heavens what will be different,
With his blood on the sand.
"The sweat, Claudius? Can you feel it in your bones? It's the combined disappointment of all your ancestors, weeping seething, burning, black tears at your failure. And as you gasp for air in the boiling inferno, like a snake in the waves I shall come, sword in hand, a living shadow. You betrayed me long ago, comrade. And I have to come to make good on my promise. You will not know when I have come until it is too late, when I have cleaved your heart from your breast and your lifeblood runs down to the handle of my blade. Only then will you be repaid the injustice you cast upon me, all those years ago."
I shall not pretend,
That this is the end,
Even as I crawl with my skin flayed.
I'll stare Him in the eyes,
Until one of us dies,
With my sword, my daemons I've slayed.
The journey ended at last,
Peace made with my past,
My sins, they caress and float around me.
In my soul, I know,
They watch me from below,
Pulling strings I have yet to forsee.
The collective hammers of time,
Could not cast me into hell.
I braved the Devil's chime,
Swam through the Leviathan's swell.
I drag myself from the waters,
Forced my enemy to stare me in the eye.
My curse had killed his sons and daughters,
From the grave, I came to watch him die.
In the centre of infinity,
Lies the thing that should not be.
It writhes and squirms in contented jubilee.
Passified by a court of malignant band,
Who must forever dance and cast by hand,
A sickly symphony by pipe and drum and,
Vocals hoarsened by gaping throat bringing song,
Lest the Great Beast stirr from its eternal throng,
Of slumber yet separate from reality and wrong.
Seething, sleeping chaos,
Blinded idiot sloth:
Daemon Sultan Azathoth!
On my tongue, I tasted the smoke.
On my skin, I felt the fire.
In my nose, I smelt the burning flesh.
As we burnt the witch at the funeral pyre.
Her fingertips, we did peel back.
With a barbed whip, her back we flayed.
With an iron, we scorched out her eyes.
And her daemon coven, we have slayed.
These wretched lands, they shall be razed.
Smouldering ruins and corpses, they shall be salted.
For heresy, they have been condemned.
For it is a wrathful god we have exalted.
Our divinely guided king, commanded this crusade.
The heretics, we shall smite.
For they worship a wretched, bastard god.
When it is our god, we know is right.
From the waves, the leviathan rose before me,
Its thousand eyes burning a crimson red.
Waves ravage us as it crashes through the sea,
To feast upon the corpses of the dead.
As we stare upon this lumbering mound,
Ocean air thick with primal fear,
They go mad from its nightmarish sound,
Yet it whispers softly in my ear:
"Thine eyes gaze upon thou's damnation,
This storming night shall be your last.
Birthed not of the womb of Lord nor Satan,
In these soft rains, the die has been cast."
Long ago, people strived in the sweltering air,
Plowing and tilling lords' fields with meticulous care.
Now we lay broken and bloated, vultutes filling the sky,
Laying with diseased comrades, begging gods to let us die.
Those few priests remaining tell us to be thankful and pray,
But they fall silent as with dying strength they hear us say:
Kings and Clergy offer salvation,
But they speak only lies.
This is suredly our damnation,
As everyone around us dies.
The abbey has bars over its wooden doors,
Packed with the corpses of clergy and nobles and whores.
In the stone monolith, they hoped to escape the world,
As outside, apocalypse upon us unfurled.
As time wound on, miasma washed upon them like a sea,
Daemons laughed, angels cried at the bitter irony:
Our majesty dines on fine mutton and wine,
As breath vanishes from his subjects' lungs.
Lucifer's infernal chime, beats upon our end times,
As our dying kingdom's swan song is sung.
In an empty kingdom, ruins are covered in snow,
The plague that killed it having vanished long ago.
In makeshift tombs, ancient bodies lie eternally,
For new souls, festering ghouls wait patiently.
Miasma rises up, ready to burst from the ground,
Rotting hands rise near the surface, quietly waiting to be found.
Icy claws break the surface, as new footsteps tread upon the sod,
Pillars of plague rise, poised to poison the new god.
From ancient dust, a nightmare titan returns,
New victims are claimed, miasma within them churns:
Feared myth leaps from the page,
A curse from a forgotten age.
This doomsday happened in front of our terrified eyes.
The extinction of a race,
End of society's pace.
Our final page is cast in this scourge's die.
