Zealot March Video (MV)

You better watch that mouth when you flex your doubt
Bitter like a stout while your enemies on route
Claiming you're all out, threatening like a scout
I'll be metaphorically ripping and tearing entrails out
I'm a modern day monster, riding in a car
Full of czars, each with a face full of grisly scars
Nobody's calling shotgun don't mean they ain't got one
Room full of goons, elementary my dear Watson
Speak to me with stuttered step
It ain't about your life or your weak little rep
You can claim you're truly blessed and I'll say you're a mess
Your passion rattles around in your hollow chest
You defend your hate like you won't be free
I defend my anger by waiting patiently
Seeing my moment, I know you will believe
You got it all backwards, the devil worships me

I'm a real piece of work, a full institution
A mix of genius and more than a little delusion
Beast on the mic you can be what you like
You can dream a little bigger you can make the first strike
You can fall on your face, you can fall out of grace
You can fall for anything if you never fail in the first place
You can follow the codes to the very last letter
Sometimes they lie, it doesn't really get better
My soul is covered in rust, we can't all shine
Just ignore the freak while I take what's mine
Sometimes I feel like I'm last in line
Searching for that alpha status to define
It's my bloodline to design a borderline goldmine
A shrine to the mind that's never been confined
A voice that's timid but not afraid to fly
Soar over the world and wave goodbye

I walk among idiots and saints and the identity it paints
Is a still a blank canvas with no signs of shade
Spill out the ink, replace it with blood
Sign your name and step into the mud
And get dirty and get lambasted
And learn to accept you're just another bastard
Forget to speak, forget to pose
Forget empathy to cope with all of those
In a world of devils and angels, I'm the last pessimist
I'm the final word on nobody's list
I'm not old school or new, I'm undereducated
Equipped with an ego that's already deflated
I speak in riddles, amputate tongues
Spitting hot embers, no need for lungs
Maybe a little dramatic but never static
Pragmatic but automatic with the chromatic