I chop and I change and the mystery thickens
There?s blood on my hands and you want me to listen
To brawn and to brain when the truth?s in the middle
Born of the grain like all good riddles
Thy will be done
Your king- kingdom kingdom kingdom
You kill when you talk and the enemy weakens
I?ve lost and I?ve gained and while I was thinking
You cut off my hands when I wanted to twist
(you?re a bitter malignous person)
(and the death is well overdue)
(you suck the blood that kills you)