Atlas

Everyone assumed you wanted this,

But no one ever asked.

And here you are, my boy, my child,

The survivor. The very last.

You weren't meant to be the victor,

You were not the golden son.

But here you stand, sweet sorrow,

And finally, you have won.

Oh, you are not your father.

You were not born to rule.

You do not want to become what he did;

A ruler so terrible and cruel.

This empire is yours now,

Do you hear the common people sing?

You are the king, the conqueror,

Selim, Selim, Selim.

Does he seem so very small now?

He who was the state.

The emperor of your life, your father,

The diviner of your fate.

Father, you whisper, don't leave me.

I wasn't born to hold the sky.

I am too weak, too feeble,

But for your sake, I will try.

You live not for yourself now,

But for your wife. Your daughters. Your son. 

Unlike you he'll have no brothers,

You don't want him to kill like you have done.

So no, you were not born for this.

For you had an older brother,

You were born instead for summer days,

For your fiery, loving mother.

You were born for kindness,

For loss, oh, you were born for love.

For wine and gold and plenty, 

For the burning sun above.

Discard the boy now, my son,

The one who dreamed of peace.

You are a warrior now, boy.

The child must be released.

She crosses the room to your side,

Rests her head in the crook of your arm.

Padishah, she addresses you,

Sultan of my heart.

For her, you remind yourself slowly,

I carry the sky above her head.

I fought my family for power,

But I am left only love instead.

The sun rises in the distance,

A sun that your father will never see.

Your brothers are dead and gone now.

She whispers, it's only you and me.

The wailing of the widows grows louder,

A single tear streaks down your cheek.

You rub it away swiftly;

A Sultan can never be weak.