I Am Your Piper

I can hear the children now, competing with the songs and lullabies of happiness, of friendly frigate birds while I, the one with fiery eyes, wait for the darkness of the night when inborn principles and the kindness of humanity shall be torn up like the old shirt that priests do wear in private life. Mind you, this is no case of obsolescence, as, for a hoarder I do seldom part with well-worn clothes and useless things, yet this is a new age, new rules apply. I shall look back for my approval, will surely find it in medieval times, you've taken out my heart with frigid hands but while it manages its final beats you will have found a simple piper who only takes all of his pay in blood.