Even after all the sin I've never been one to repent
Another win but is it heaven sent or am I hell bent
Patron only of mine tonight I dine well on fine print

I was born to lose a natural made failure and often a killer
Sworn in by those unnaturally old and grand figures my owners
Fathers and mothers how many figures were made at the altar
When the sons and daughters were sacrificed did any falter
Did anyone care to do more than pose and posture
As you marched the future off to the slaughter

Heart or a feather yours always seems heavier
If its not clear I'll cut the prose and be clear
Our elders hit it big and sold us up the river