Why do the hidden rage?


They think I'm a novice in their wisdom,
They think I'm the throne of a lordship,
They think I can defeat their hell
In the womb of time...
The think the army out of me.

All the saught they think falls into shape;
The butterflies lock in my heart
On my way to the cross;
I've found no battle in them;
Their dogma has kept them nowhere.

I'm not a judge of the earth;
Principalities catch their brows
When I sing in tongue of their ragings;
They annotated me with lion's garment;
The cross defines my championship.

Why do the hidden rage?

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