Tyrion Lannister

The land is a blooming orchard

With fruit so juicy and ripe

With the clink of a coin, loose the lion's loin

Play a tune on the halfman's pipe

In the arms of a w h o r e, I made a promise

Sinking deeper into danger every day

Cut through all their s h i t with a brazen wit

Molding puppets from their minds of clay.

I'm no man of honour

Myself is my true king

But somewhere deep within me

The bells of conscience ring...

Beware, beware, of the words I twist

I am small, but my reach is long

And the ravens, black against the winter's mist

Are whispering the Halfman's Song

Aye, whispering the Halfman's Song🎵

🎵There are some who are born distinguished

There are some who are raised in praise

But me, I was always the last in line

A blot in my father's gaze

No cheekbones chiseled on a feline face

No skill or savvy with a sword

But this game that we play is one of wily ways

And sly is the littlest lord.

Cruel tricks of romance

Degraded by their spite

You snub your cub too many times, you just might feel his bite.

Beware, beware, of the words I twist

I am small, but my reach is long

And the ravens, black against the winter's mist

Are whispering the Halfman's Song.

Nailed it!