Cannons wait on this wall,
They dream of being fired on,
Some unfortunate fool,
Who draws far too close.
Some people are still as cannons,
They are just as deadly.
Yet, they require a fuse,
A torch,
A team,
To send their shot to the horizon.
To try to take on the world.
From the low-hanging fruit,
To the tips of the palisades.
Blessed are those who can light their own fuse,
Who roll and open fire freely.
Their eyes see a target,
They open fire,
Both guns blazing,
All cannons firing.
If they do not succeed,
It is not the end of the world.
If they succeed, all audiences will applaud,
Whether they are in the fort,
Or charging towards the wall.