Our house is unrivaled; It’s the path that we tread.

We shall accept nothing less for the blood that we’ve shed.

Our veins course with fire, and our warm blood runs red.

Any mortal man may try, but you can’t kill that which is already dead.

Our house is steel; You can keep your affectations, both flower and bud.

We rise from the ashes; We raised ourselves from the mud.

Our time is coming, so know this before the coming flood:

This house is here to conquer, and we are coming for blood.

Our house is grounded deep, but our seat towers higher.

Though we sit on a throne, our house does not tire.

The tribulations that burn other men are our refining pyre.

We are unbent and unyielding; We were forged in the fire.

Our house does not bend the knee; No lord is our liege.

Even less do we heed those who beseech.

We are the lords of our destinies, and history shall forever teach:

This house only conquers. We do not siege.