Hear ye, hear ye, people of Luxael, hear ye,
For what I am about to say, none is ready!
_
Psychics revolting around, can you hear them march?
Far too long have they endured watching you all botch
_
Their might that none could ever surpass, for you all
Are inferiors to them; now I shall watch you fall,
_
Beneath the hands of the people you maltreated,
Underneath the might of sorcery unsheathed.
_
Witness how you all fall in their hands easily,
And observe as this battle ceases only when
_
A child, he that comes from the womb of a psychic
Emerges bellow those hundreds of hay and stick,
Born from a father who never once used magic
_
And unite Luxael, our land, once and for all!
For only then will they say, "The king has arrived!"