Under the gaze of old gods, there are puppets on strings
In the chequerboard world, where they are castling kings
It's where matriarchs reign, like bewitching ebony wights
With devisers in their entourages, of bishops and knights
Invisible forces move, to advance, or even counterattack
With pawns to the fore, for them, there's no turning back
Retreating is not an option, for it's the rules, of the game
For they're the collateral damage, an en passant, in vain
Yet craven kings, are hidden, within crannies and nooks
Behind lines of forlorn hope and their ramparts of rooks
As the realms around them, become a dismantled array
There's nothing left standing, to keep any enemy, at bay
As deities exert power, they'll sacrifice bishop and pawn
Protecting the elite, for to them, they are eternally sworn
Only the subjugated, draw death, in a computerised trial
But only a king, draws a breath, in forfeiting rank and file
Under the gaze of old gods, ancient wars, fatefully renew
The ritual of battle raging, beneath a standard, Deep Blue
With elitists in ebony and ivory towers, pulling the strings
In the chequerboard world, where they are castling kings
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