Guardians of Their Own Truth

A gypsy with a heart of gold
Has spent the winter sleepin' cold
Knowin' the trinkets that he sold
Are linin' out the pockets of the Guardians

And patient, nailed upon his bed
Abandoned, cold and left for dead
Is grateful even to be fed
A little from the hands of the

Guardians of their own truth
Soldiers on their own roads
Players on their own stages
And wonders of the world

Before them all King Midas stood
His sandals soaked in gold and blood
Agreein' as indeed he should
His wealth should see the plates of the Guardians

And all his wealth, the King's delight
Went disappearin' in the night
The day he lost the will to fight
And cast it in the palms of the

Guardians of their own truth
Soldiers on their own roads
Players on their own stages
And wonders of the world

The tree is groanin' even now
Left spinnin' still and wonderin' how
The sap that climbs to every bough
Is salted for the sake of the Guardians
But in the end when all is dry
Not only how but also why
Is whispered with a gentle sigh
The dust blanketin' the eye of the

Guardians of their own truth
Soldiers on their own roads
Players on their own stages
And wonders of the world

Guardians of their own truth
Soldiers on their own roads
Players on their own stages
And wonders of the world



Credits
Writer(s): Trevor Midgley
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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