Anon

In this desert to the East
Anon talks for all his dreams
How he walked a century
Waiting for the peace
Said "I was good and I am poor
We were born unto this rock"
No say lion in his den
Eyeing man with bad intent

In the Stomach of the King
We can bite the hands of thieves
And spit out their golden rings
A thousand miles from the Sea

In the Stomach of the King
We can bite the hands of thieves
And spit out their golden rings
A thousand miles from the Sea