[Lyric] To Restore the Pride to Petravore (Latitude Egress)

'Twas at the edge I spotted him
At times I had walked with but the end of mind returning me
An oaken pole in a nervous hand, another, nails gathering crumbs
And lint and therefore time

Pikes had flipped aplenty
And all within the brief moment I stood observant
Fins of moistened awe, fangs, to froth a lust for momentary boldness
Had it not been for the old man's net of loose loops adjoining
Had it not been for a pact with the devil, appointing

There, as I contemplated, at guard in willow shades
I aligned, as had once been written
That there was to be none of them like the pride of Petravore
Stealing herself, slipping nets and city gates

There, as it was mine to depart, I watched him take
A staggering step towards the open, then retreating
First to take a few more swings with a ravaged net
In the attempt to restore the pride to Petravore