In this patched up tent,
A man with ragged hand,
On the verge of unification,
Warrior with a plan.
And dangling on his fingers,
Cigarettes of shattered empires,
Where gray smoke lingers,
Burning with might, flaming his desires.
Go on; stab him with that iron spear.
Watch him bleed without a tear.
With buckets, can you catch his fear?
For mighty kuan gong, this dude is here.
On his face crimson smear,
wrapped with anger,instilling fear.
Listen to his roar; watch his enemy fall.
He is not your savior, he's the vanguard rear.
Standing there, kneeling to none,
Bow your head; pray from your core.
Seek for wings, for you can't outrun,
Plead forgiveness? will he give one?
Sitting on your golden throne,
Locked up behind solid fortress.
You can only rejoice for so long,
For I kuan gong, misfortune bringer is here.
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