[littlemanpoet]

Greetings. I give you a perspective not often given. This is a song by Bobsegerdil, Burn the Mage.

{Sauron mulls it over}
In this tall and loathsome tower, east of Gorgoroth
You can hear the tortured prisoners moaning their lone song
You think about the Baggins who has your Ring; him it will cost.
But your thoughts begin their wandering, the way they always do.
When you're searching untold hours and you hope it won't be long.
And you don't see much of anything, you just wish you've finally won through.
You say, here I am, the Dark Lord again. There I am, lord of the age.
Here I go, Dark Lord again.
There I go. Burn the mage.
Well you see into a palantir, stung by the one on the road,
You can feel his eyes upon you as he shows his new-forged blade
You pretend it doesnt bother you, but you just want to explode.
Most times you ignore their talk, other times you don't.
Oh the same old battle, will they never bow to your command?
They always say you're too strong, then they still make a stand.
Here I am, the Dark Lord again. There I am, lord of the age.
Here I go, Dark Lord again.
There I go. Burn that mage.
Out there beyond Mordor you're a miles and miles away,
Every ounce of will, they use against you all day,
As the Ring wears down Baggins' body with the torture that you play.
Later in the darkness as you watch with lidless eye,
With the echo from the torturers singing like a sigh,
You stoke the fires of Mount Doom, fearing hidden lore.
Now here I am, Dark Lord again. There I am, lord of the age.
Here I go. Dark Lord again.
There I go. Burn the mage.
Here I am, Dark Lord again. There I am, lord of the age.
Ah here I go, Dark Lord again.
There I go. Burn that mage!
************************************************** *********************
On a long and lonesome highway, east of omaha.
You can listen to the engine moaning out its one lone song
You can think about woman, or the girl you knew the night before,
But your thoughts will soon be wandering, the way they always do.
When your riding sixteen hours and theres nothing much to do
And you dont feel much like riding, you just wish the trip was through.
Say, here I am, on the road again. there I am, up on the stage.
Here I go, playing star again.
There I go, turn the page.
Well you walk into a restaurant, strung out from the road,
You can feel the eyes upon you as your shaking off the cold
You pretend it doesnt bother you, but you just want to explode.
Most times you cant hear em talk, other times you can.
Oh the same old cliche, as that woman on her a man
You always see my number, you dont dare make a stand.
Here I am, on the road again. there I am, up on the stage.
Here I go, playing star again.
There I go, turn the page.
Out there in the spotlight your a million miles away,
Every ounce of energy, you try and give away,
As the sweat pours out your body like the music that you play.
Later in the evening as you lie awake in bed,
With the echo from the amplifiers ringing in your head,
You smoke the days last cigarette, remembering what she said.
Now here I am, on the road again. there I am, up on the stage.
Here I go, playing star again.
There I go, turn the page.
Here I am, on the road again. there I am, up on the stage.
Ah here I go, playing star again.
There I go, there I go.