A man ought to lead all alone along this mainstream

Neither dull nor bashful; who is also not mean

He must be his own men, common and complete

A man of principle by instinct without mentioning it

He is the greatest general soldiered from a simple spirit

He is the hero, he means everything

As if there is no morrow he makes his own destiny

He will use his blade surely to convince a stray posse

He does not want to be Caesar, maybe his best friend

Who has a noble heart, always lived above the Standard

In his reality he represents the absolute best

And a good enough soul for any world on end

He confronts the darkest parts of himself on occasion

Tries to banish them with forgiveness and illumination

He knows only a true gem of innocence in his mind

Can assure that decency will somehow be triumphant

Will the champion ever be facing a false opponent?

Would he choose to die a martyr from his own hand

At the cost of a soldier’s death at his wit’s end

Or live long to see himself become a villain in the end?

This is Sparta!