Rothwild's Musings

Bundry Rothwild


What a sad song the old behemoth sings. It looks right at me when I sit here to have my nightcap. Yes, look at me. A fly next to you, but I am your master, ain't I? Killed a hundred of your kind, and I'll kill a thousand more before I'm done. Drain you then feed you to my butchers. The mournful cries of the whales don't touch that lot... no sir. They don't have hearts, I think. But by the Outsider I think I still have a small one, shriveled and blackened as it may be. Yes, sing me a lullaby while I have another drink. Sing...