Men in armor, sweat, and grime, wait ­impatiently for their time
Rows on rows of piercing eyes are kept upon his grisly sight
Artificial thunder breaks the night as boots of steel move forward to fight

Only one rides above the rest, a golden eagle imbued on his chest
His empiric sword, his golden hair, his voice thrown forward, his unforgiving stare
Holy words and curses cast to protect the men who fight tonight
But sticks and stones are all they have and words won't help their plight

With faith and honor and misplaced loyalty
The men march on with dreams of royalty
And one still rides above the rest, encased in steel and haughtily dressed
His words cut short, his weapon bare, as ­royalty he's unaware

The piercing eyes of men on low, know that he had reaped what he did not sow
“God will judge,” they rightfully said
But still time passed and his power spread
“Time will tell,” they said in despair
Empty words and unanswered prayers

Peace, tyranny, and Revolution
This is the Cycle of our evolution
When the tyrant rises up and gains control
When he makes his decisions and ignores the poll
Revolution is at hand and the people all know
All deeds done are quid pro quo