PAUPER KINGS/BANDIT QUEENS

These are the power-mad fever dreams of pauper kings
We have nothing-we must be everything
We are masters without slaves, gods who need no worshipping
Through the gutters and galaxies that are reserved for madmen's eyes
We sail, like rain against the sky

In the ruins
In encampments fit for bandit queens
In the glow at the end of the day
We will gather with our demons
We will dance, and they will play
Through the gutters and galaxies that are reserved for madmen's eyes
The d___ed steal through the land of the blessed
To taste the sweet fruit of the flesh

When the others lose hope
When the bread runs out
When there's nowhere to go
When the hammer comes down
We look to the horizon, and all our sufferings lose their sting
Toast the beheaded, sing: behead every boasted king
We will bear neither chain nor crown
Neither chain nor crown

Meanwhile, ever present, inexorable doom
Sense your death-there it waits, inside you
Another day of borrowed time
Could it be long enough to taste of life

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