Desert Kings

A carbon copy of old kings who bathe in riches
A feather dipped in ink for all of the wrong reasons

There's no use to breathe
When the air's breathed by the heir of thieves

Milked for what it's worth
Not much else, but gold
A desert king or queen
Beautiful and old

There's no use to be
A book drawn up by the likes of me

Why are you not scared?
What makes you feel so free?
Why are you not scared like me?

Why are you not scared?
What makes you feel so free?
Why are you not scared of me?