We are sons of our fathers sins and we don't inherit inequities
We are arrows to thorns of greed
And we don't wear the gold it feeds its king

You don't choose your name
Just far to leave in your ache
If we all wanna oversee the saints
You wear the wound to dying in

No ties or allegiance to majesties and no veil to blind your reasoning

No script rehearsed in all you speak
All your words in the voice you sing

You don't choose your name
Just far to leave in your ache
If we all wanna oversee the saints
You wear the wound to dying in

No words to swear on different kings
All words are yours to make it seem

You don't choose your name
Just far to leave in your ache