Hold on to everything you have, before it slips through your hands.
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Untold the story of the blood, shed to serve desires of greater man.
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For all the time the gold refined, still we cry, consuming more, as we stay poor.
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They've locked the door.
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Fight for your life, no more we'll close our eyes 'til Sunday.
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While people die poor everyday, your lies will never feed my family.
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Still fight to make a better way.
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They've taken away all I have.
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Isaac Is The Champ
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| Bloodlined Calligraphy |
