The Thief, the Philanthropist, the Meek, and the Tyrant
The greedy, the compassionate, the weak, and the violent
They come to me in the greatest debate
Explaining their cases, my mind contemplates
The conflicting, the considering, the decisions to make
The four of me converge to measure the stakes
The weighing, the comparing, the tipping of scales
As a wandering dog on thin ice, still chasing his tail
For my mind chooses from four, my persuasive tools
It's selection determines me a genius or fool


The thief, never satisfied with whatever is gained
Oblivious to the outcomes dealing with pride or of shame
His only desire is the acquiring of more
To him what you posses is the measure, the score
He is void of others. Void of any distribution
But he provides a valued and needed contribution
With out him there is nothing I want
No knowledge, No freedom, No activity, No one
For careful with his suggestions I'll must be
But to ignore him would be the very shackles of me


The Philanthropist, the one that gives without question
A fulfiller of souls, the selfless progression
He bares the knowledge that one can not be of itself
He bares the heart and to it it's own wealth
Held high in esteem, he is the giver of compassion
Yet he by himself can not deliver attractions
He by his own will not allow one to live
For without the thief, he has gained nothing to give
No coin, No freedom, No Knowledge he's chained
But without him, I am a man not worthy of name


The meek, the tempered, the collected old soul
To live life in peace is his directive, his goal
The voice that whispers to get out of harm's way
The voice that chooses caution, to halt, or delay
The master of knowing when to swallow one's pride
One not compelled when asked to be a taker of sides
However, in peace, he provides no tools to defend
Not for his freedom, his knowledge, his family or friends
He is one at peace, but for himself he can't make peace
But to forget him, I'd be a monster, a tormentor, a beast


The Tyrant, the one that protects, destroys and maims
He is of himself but yet holds onto no aim
His instincts are to act, to move and peruse
To conquer all challenges, to break, to undo
The one that sparks fear, that drives harm away
To chase off the invaders and those who betray
However to let run rampant, more harm he'll invite
He needs the meek to choose battles, to earn some respite
He is the most volatile and dangerous, both wild and insane
But to deny him, there is no vehicle for accomplishments gained