Wears 10 crowns, dragons heads
Southern are the sons, lords unmatched
- their eyes don't look right, should they be trusted now?
Trashed-mouth gods, avoided kings
With the spirit of revolt, the ghost of youth
Every fucking year it stays the same
Everybody changes to suit the day
Out of pride i'll isolate my fears
Never turned our backs on why we're here
We'll grind that axe for a long time
Follow close, train of fools
Just like them, just like you
- their eyes don't seem right.
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