Anon

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