Verse:
We in the land of the mourning, children of the sun
We so used to the burning from the barrels of the gun
Be the first to shoot only coz it's the truth
We stand tall as were penalized, victims arise
The true test is trueness, can't be fucked
We be fooled by the foolish, fresh out of luck
We be strong to the finish, diminishing thrillers
Can't settle for less, erase them atsay killers
Forms of power, they bow down coz they're favored
All kinds of snakes, in a wide array of different flavors
We savor the sacred, the love, and hatred
Toss it in the salad of this life underrated
Relief in the abstract, away from the noise
We brewin' mirroring gods, exposing the frauds, we bloomin'
Knights of the round executing solutions
Fumigate and extricate from noise pollution
Hook (4x):
Well faded, we want the sacred, no entertainment
Land of the living dead, scenes of the jaded
Ouroboros, lost cause, rev up the nos
We aim higher, cold shoulder but spit fire
