My son

I will tell you to be weary

Of those-who-walk-on-two-feet

They can be crude

They can be rude

But it is true, they'd be shrewd

They have a way

To find their prey

Using, some say, magical weapons

You need to know

None of this, though

Is as real as your string of bear claws

Open your cage

Turn a new page

Look for your way, forget your rage

Follow the Sun

You're not a pawn

Forge your future in this Dark Age