Apprendre à chanter à un cochon, c'est gaspiller votre temps et contrarier le cochon.

In my talons, I shape clay, crafting life forms as I please.
Around me is a burgeoning empire of steel.
From my throne room, lines of power careen into the skies of Earth.
My whims will become lightning bolts that devastate the mounds of humanity.
Out of the chaos, they will run and whimper, praying for me to end their tedious anarchy.
I am drunk with this vision. God: the title suits me well.