When all began we were already there
Meeting you at birth and leaving you at death
You came up to our hill with your eyes open wide
Wondering why the sun was high up in the sky

Fighting thousand wars
Your reasons still the same
Poverty will always leave its deadly mark of shame
Selling death from a golden tower
Selling death down the streets
It doesn’t make a difference, you’re a killer

I saw your face so many times before
As a king, a priest, a slave with shining gold in your hands
No dignity, no mercy, no values of your scale
Of sheer lucre could satisfy your ego