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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