We raised it from the bone of doubt,
From fractured stone and whispered vow.
We lifted it above the dust
And named the height as something just.
We carved our certainty in flame,
Let judgment wear our chosen name.
We crowned the echo of our voice
And called the silence choice.
Higher.
Further from the ground.
We ascend the throne.
Right dissolves
In our hands.
We ascend the throne.
Fair becomes
What we command.
We shaped the law in our own form,
Smoothed the edges, kept it warm.
We weighed the world from polished stone
And never questioned what we owned.
From where we sat the lines were clear,
The distance swallowed doubt and fear.
The lower voices blurred below,
Like something we would never know.
Clear.
Untouched by doubt.
We ascend the throne.
Truth bends
To our design.
We ascend the throne.
Justice speaks
In our voice.
The higher we climbed,
The thinner the air.
The louder we ruled,
The less we could hear.
We ascend the throne.
Above the plea.
Above the cry.
We ascend the throne.
And call it divine.
This lie, this throne,
Just another broken bone.
This greed, this lust,
Just another dust.