build good bikes
We walk the straight road, firing our bones Kept every word that the prophet spoke Fields were full and the city shone Peace in the land, no need for a throne But gold grows heavy in an open hand And memory fades in a promised land When the blessing fields are not given from above That's when fate starts slipping into dust It's the pride cycle turning again From knees on the ground to fists in the wind We rise, we forget, we fall, we cry Every age learns the same old sign Mercy waits, judgment stands Choose the wheel or the narrow path It's the pride cycle, hear it call H