Recollections of my days are becoming blear
Or maybe it's the blood loss
I recall when the idea first crystalized
The fatuous endeavor before we inevitably die
The toil, the tragedy, the momentary triumphs
Humbled under the heel of time
Studying sorcery I found way to survive
My soul entrusted to beast and bird, both buried under an oak
Unburdened by mortality my morality decayed
Whatever or whomever I desired I'd just simply take
Victim of my own conceit, I was caught, shackled, and in defeat
With sorcery ensured hundreds died
Brutally, before being bound and pacified
When efforts of execution failed to deliver me to death
I was immured by Marya Morevna
Besieged by darkness, rats, rot, and irony
My prison was a poetic reminder of a disadvantage of immortality
Twelve chains restrained my neck, hands, and feet
Ten years of isolation, while I wailed and screamed
Then one day, my hoarse pleas of perdition, were finally answered
A man named Ivan, unlocked my cell, and I was given water
Revitalized, the sturdy restraints holding me
Were easily broken and bust
Marya's army would perish and she'd be my bride until the day she died
Conjuring my power my rage became a tempest manifest
The warrior princess and her army in route step
Would be destroyed; slaughtered, by both whirlwinds and thunderstorm
Bol'she nikogda... Bol'she nikogda... Bol'she nikogda
Then one day I was astonished to see
The young man Ivan attempt a rescue, foolishly
Three warnings followed by three attempts, and I dismembered him
Disposed in the briny currents
She escaped again; tracking their trail, I was surprised to see, Ivan
Though I dismounted and had approached cautiously
Their steed suddenly bucked, striking my head violently
Stunned, and beaten; burned, my ashes were distributed and dispersed
Enraged yet alive, my soul still separated; I couldn't die
Eventually I resurrected and returned to my castle
I continued my life of hunting
Some trophies chose to stay, some not, no one left
Except Vasilisa who showed true fondness
I witlessly shared the safekeeping of my soul
Someone smashed my door, a rescue? I've dealt with these before
A swordsman, named Bulat, claimed he would take my life
Dismayed when his strikes failed to fell me
Vasilisa took my side, and I felt an egg crack on my back
Sharp agony overtook me and I fell to the floor
Reinstated with mortality my constitution deteriorated
Bulat and Vasilisa gone, my blood flowed onto the floor
Victim of my own conceit, I was callous, stubborn, and recalcitrant
With sorcery delayed when I'd die
Undignified, ultimately forsaken and ostracized