With Faunus whipping us into a frenzy,
we danced in the streets of a city,
with walls circled by the wolves
and populated by lurid priests.
I was destined for war.
You were destined for more.
In Palatine groves, we conjoined,
whipped with thongs and singing songs -
No wonder the emperor tried to put a stop to this.
 
Against his imprimatur,
I forsook my legion
and became a martyr among the saints,
who’s secret ceremonies
allowed us soldiers a moment’s peace.
Swords to plow shears among forlorn homes,
with bower birds singing our song,
as the wolves circled round,
our voices conjoined in chorused howl -
No wonder the emperor tried to put a stop to this.
 
With the executioner’s sword,
They tried to separate us.
They turned our trophies into trinkets
and burned our oaths exchanged on vellum.
With lace bedecking our pietas,
they inhumed us outside the walls
Still, the wolves gather round.
They still sing our song, my love.
For this one is for the ages -
No wonder the emperor tried to put a stop to this.