Born of flesh.
Born of blood.
I was fed milk and bread.
Till I could feed with my own hand.
Born to into a land of what is fare or not clear.
Into a land as bare.
Land as clear and bare as a babe’s palm.
Land of possibilities.
Land with hostilities.
Land I am to toil with responsibilities.
Under a sun so round.
Sun as hot.
Sun as round and hot as vapour from hades’s cooking pot.
I am a son of strength.
The strength of iron.
I am a son filled with the strength of man and iron.
Born of this land.
Into the land of sand.
Land fields of sand made of iron.
I, son of iron.
I have to work these fields made of iron.
Whilst I sweat, facing the sun whose rays are as piercing as iron.
I, son of iron, I will work the fields of iron and face the sun of iron.
I am determined and will quake the gates, even of Zion.
And make everything in it shake to feel my presence as I roar, though I am a man and not a lion.
I, son of iron, born of flesh, blood and iron.
I work these fields of iron, to conquer my path and roar back to the sun of iron till he hears my voice.