the power that flows through the barrel
the fear that flows from the heart
the agony that flows from the soul.

"are you black or white?"
"I...I...I...I'm black."
"then you must die"
and die he did.
they that lived;weep


in the years of horsemen
nobles were born in the west,
so were the serfs.
they lived like the sky
and the ground.
I'm higher and you're not.

rennaiscance brought a new class,
those who must die.
The serf is getting smart
The noble is seeking protection
The lord is acquiring protection.

"give me what is mine"says the serf
"it is not I who has it"replies the noble
"then who?"asks the serf
"it must be the lord"

to the lord the serfs went.
"I'm here for what is mine"says the serf
"you can't have it"comes the reply
"then i must fight for it"says the serf
"do that which you choose.I'm still your lord".

prepared but unprepared
their bloods shed on the alter
their might only grew wiser
but not stronger.
they only know.
they know and they know
that they can do nothing about that
which they know.

the serf must serve the master
the lord remains master
the nobles remain like they were.

all we can do
is live for the moment.
all we can do
is stay in our place
all we can do
is watch without getting erased