Over the hill
Sits a man
Cursed to live until
The world ends

People say he killed in rage
People say lots of things
He keeps shouting
“Rache”
But no one understands

As the abyss that he built his house on
Starts to die on its own,
The reflection of its starring seems
To start a new world

“Rache” shall we call it
Rache to the old world,
The curse is never-ending
Nor does the new forget the old.