Alkhalij where rebels are born

Oh hear the call, from Deris' throne, A land of might, where power is sown. Its banner bright, a regal flare, Yet rebels rise to tear and snare. Alkhalij, that wayward seed, Whose stubborn hearts are bent on greed. Defying laws, they shun the crown, Their pride, a curse upon the town. The Monument of Rage they praise, A bitter stone of spiteful days. But Deris strong shall never yield, Its sword shall cleave, its shield shall shield. From Tyrant’s Gulf to verdant shore, Our ships shall rule, as they of yore. Yet here they dare to block the sea, A petty nest of mutiny. Through shifting sands their city stands, Built not by skill, but thieving hands. Our king decrees, and armies ride, To quell the storm and stem the tide. Oh Alkhalij, thy fiery pride, Shall break beneath our justice tried. Your raging hearts, your shouting throng, Will meet the fate of those who wrong. For Deris reigns, with wisdom crowned, Its glory vast, its fame renowned. No rebel cries shall mar its name, Their flame shall die, consumed in shame. The streets you cherish, bright with spice, Shall kneel to Deris, pay the price. Your monuments, your lofty songs, Shall fade as right avenges wrongs. So hear, oh rebels, one last plea, Submit to Deris’ majesty. Or face the wrath, the tide shall turn, And in your pride, your city burn.