A journey and my soles become weary
My prey are those things not seen that I crave to devour
My spirit longs to be understood but my wild side of passion cares not
I have no inclination to have you venture where I am called to go
Like the olive who yields its shimmering liquid gold
In this season of pressing my greatest works shall be birthed
I shall rise and shine like no time before
I am lion, hear me roar
My prey are those things not seen that I crave to devour
My spirit longs to be understood but my wild side of passion cares not
I have no inclination to have you venture where I am called to go
Like the olive who yields its shimmering liquid gold
In this season of pressing my greatest works shall be birthed
I shall rise and shine like no time before
I am lion, hear me roar
I will accomplish my vision no matter what!
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