BANDIT QUEENS/PAUPER KINGS

These are the power-mad fever dreams of pauper kings We have nothing-we must be everything We are masters without slaves, gods who need no worshiping Through the gutters and galaxies that are reserved for madmen's eyes We sail, like rain against the sky In the ruins In encampments fit or bandit queens In the glow at the end of the day We will gather with our demons We will dance, they will play Through the gutters and galaxies that are reserved for madmen's eyes The damned steal through the land of the blessed To taste the sweet fruit of the flesh When the others love hope When the bread runs out When there's nowhere to go When the hammer comes down We look to the horizon, and all our sufferings love their sting Toast the beheaded, sing: behead every boasted king We will bear neither chain nor crown Neither chain nor crown Meanwhile, ever present, inexorable doom Sense your death-there it waits, inside you Another day of borrowed time Could it be long enough to taste of life