Away with your songs and your poets and bards, a tune or a rhyme may help pass the time, but I will not let it define me.
Your palaces grand are covered in sand, and many imaginations great died in sorrow, so I'll keep what I know and not think too much of things too great or that should be left to tomorrow.
The wars that come with chariot and drum bring little but death and sorrow, but for what is right be sure I will fight and fight until I have fallen or won even if the odds are against me.
You can keep all your pretentions and graces, such vanities do not become me and order is all very well but it shouldn't become an obsession.
It strikes me as well that the narrower the church the harder it must inevitably be to fit God, and the people inside it.
You may have on your hands many great fancy lands, with great rivers and crops growing plenty, but I'd be happier far with a cold barren shore safe from all of your vices.