The King of the Trampled

The King of the Trampled:


O king of the small, the weak, the broken
Raise your sword, strike forth with righteous zeal
at the gilded heart of the those on high
Who grind us down under their heel


O king of the gutter, lord of the blessed poor
Shatter the shield of birth and bounty
Bring to their golden doors bloodshed and war
Let a fire rage across every hamlet, borough and county


O King of copper, toil, and spirit that feels betrayal's sting
From the ranks you lead to hard-earned liberty
The next great tyranny will spring
So it is that begets a new cycle of misery


O king who stands for the meek, who frees the chained
Do not fall, lose not hope, for darkness cleves to the soul
of all men, so does the light which is its bane
Only with stout will and dogged drive can wickedness be contained