He who dares, must not yield
Chinese whispers, fortune favours
The last man on the battlefield
As the moral sound, our vision, our saviour
It's in the air, if you will
The aid to our affliction's
To swallow pride with the bitter pill
Of our history on repeat prescription
As magnetic stripes go faster
In a world too few a master
Yet too many a servant
With Napoleon's blood at the hands of merchants
Yet it's all in our best interest
To purify the needy
With directions to the straight and narrow road
Where life is but a journey
From this rock to a softer place
As diviners stand, conceited
Not at the altars of the righteous
But at the altars of the undefeated