Essence of Self
Sometimes i feel my faith is a chest of lost treasure without a map
I know that I'm destined to be loyal servant known to man
In spite of the thornbushs cover my path
I'm never a pure breed
but yet only worthy to those who speak of the most high
As i harvest the most divine fruit on this fertile soil
promised to be drenched by the flawless fain drops rejuvenating all it's dead
roots
A treasure of the gates eases my heaviest burden
nevertheless conquering my vows and wages of supremecacy is a portrait of
marbleitself
My golden armor shied's me from the patrons of man
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