The high dressed high bred highlights
run high rises from the drawing rooms of estates
the puppet strings strain under the tension of a thousand fingers
reaching forward, they stand like tombstones, impassable.
Here comes the revolution, a revolution of minds
Lets tear down these walls
Lets inspire the lonely loves, and lust for lost languages
Be prepared, we guarantee perfect anguish
The lowlands run red with the sanguine silence of the white collars and city brokers
Up above, the castle is without a door, without a throne
We thrust upon the mantle of holiness, the mantle of empires and civilizations
Laughing and shaking, the rafters rain down, Long Live the King!
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