歌词
In this desert to the East,
Anon talks for all his dreams,
How he walked a century,
Waiting for the peace.
Said "I was good and I am poor,
We were born unto this rock"
No say lion in his den.
Eyeing man with bad intent.
In the Stomach of the King,
We can bite the hands of thieves,
And spit out their golden rings,
A thousand miles from the Sea.
In the Stomach of the King,
We can bite the hands of thieves,
And spit out their golden rings,
A thousand miles from the Sea.