How weak the jaundiced jealous eye relies upon the strong arm of the law the arbiters of 'all thats good', the justification of a mob take from one who made, to give to those who nothing own this is the craven, vultures rule, of mother nature's creed all that glitters is mine to take, if only might can equal greed and kings would reduce the world to graves would conquer mountains of dead with poor as long as they to rule the ashes as long as they to claim some more. No excuse but deployed, every whim, and every lie as sure as sun will rise again, as sure as fools their lords abide The wicked shall inherit the earth, the meak are doomed to die. And only the blood shed, eternal reigns, supreme, over all to claim only the will remains unchanged, the scheme, the dream, the grand (con) game