Spirit of the Word

Ill-gotten goods are the spoils of Goliaths

Remove the hoods from a bulk of the pious

Y'all touching Midas or Ozymandias territory

If there's anything I know, we're not supposed to be violent

The Tyrant meant to be our enemy

Not an energy for us to replicate for "our own"

The men that hunt for a throne shouldn't have a home

Within our destiny, 'cause that's a recipe for disaster

And going backwards, I hazard less than half of us left

Have ever happened to step on the land

That's so defensive on behalf of its residents

And the rights so-embedded to the children by legends