We are sons of our fathers sins and we don't inherit inequities
We are arrows to thorns of greed
And we don't wear the gold it feeds its king
You don't choose your name
Just far to leave in your ache
If we all wanna oversee the saints
You wear the wound to dying in
No ties or allegiance to majesties and no veil to blind your reasoning
No script rehearsed in all you speak
All your words in the voice you sing
You don't choose your name
Just far to leave in your ache
If we all wanna oversee the saints
You wear the wound to dying in
No words to swear on different kings
All words are yours to make it seem
You don't choose your name
Just far to leave in your ache