We'll walk this land, separating peoples,
The one's who'll serve, from those who'll command.
The judges appointed, the kings are decided,
Those in the stocks await their day.
Men can huddle up in fear of tyrants,
Or use the blades and chains in their own hands.
Men can watch as all their fates decided,
Or pull the pages back from god's own hands.
Roads are paved on the bones they plucked from,
The backs of those who would dare dissent.
But bridges can't stand, on mud with a crimson hue.
No tower can rise where men stand tall.
Men can huddle up in fear of tyrants,
Or use the blades and chains in their own hands.
Men can watch as all their fates decided,
Or pull the pages back from god's own hands.
From god's own hands...or die less than a man.
We'll till the land, and leave the seeds for an army to bless the sand.
Freedom's at hand, in the palms of the youth the leaders will learn they're damned.
We'll till the land, and leave the seeds for an army to bless the sand.
Freedom's at hand, in the minds of the youth the leaders will learn they're...damned.
The childrens hands, damned, the flesh repents, fuckin level it all.
