Our Queens are slain,

Our rooks are dead,

Our walls and curtains have crumbled and frayed.

 

Toe to toe, and face to face, we stand off in a stale mate over grounds of broken glass and fallen friends.

 

You always told me to bring a gun to a knife fight and a bomb to a gun fight.

You always told me the weak fail and the strong live on in fame and glory.

You told me you loved me.

I believed you,

I love you too, my brother,

But you didn't believe me.

 

Because our eyes do not meet,

You think me a liar, a trickster.

You think your friends and family have all plotted against you and smile in spite of you.

But I suppose you've always had a knack for catching yourself in your web of green and ash.

 

So I brought my gun to our knife fight, plus an army of one.

I expect you brought your bomb.

 

My knight stands beaten, but tall by my side.

You’ve sacrificed all your pieces, and now fall alone.

 

It pains me to pull this shinny trigger as you stare up with pained and lost eyes,

Your bombs all failures.

You have finally fallen to your knees among the wreckage,

A tyrant near his end,

But what war has a happy ending.

 

Now it is time for He who we hold as God in our eyes to judge.

 

I out stood you,

Our stale mate is over,

And now all I have to say,

Is checkmate.