Justice
Nosce Teipsum Lyrics


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The glories of our blood and state
Are shadows, not substantial things
There is no armour against Fate
Death lays his icy hands on kings
Sceptre and crown
Must tumble down
And in the dust be equal made
With crooked scythe and spade

A hateful cure with hate to heal
A bloody help with blood to save
A foolish thing with fools to deal
Justice metes a premature grave

Some men with swords may reap the field
And plant fresh laurels where they kill
But their nerves at last must yield
They tame but one another still
Early or late
They stoop to fate
And must relinquish the murmuring breath
When they, pale captives, creep to Death

A hateful cure with hate to heal
A bloody help with blood to save
A foolish thing with fools to deal
Justice metes a premature grave

Let others deck their pride with scars
And of their wounds make brave, lame shows
First let them die, then pass the stars
When rotten Fame will tell their blows

The garlands wither on your brow
Then boast no more your mighty deeds
Upon death's purple altar now
See where the victor-victim bleeds
Your heads must come
To the cold tomb




Only the actions of the just
Shall grow and prosper in their dust

Overall Meaning

In the song "Justice" by Nosce Teipsum, the lyrics convey a profound reflection on the transient nature of power, the inevitability of death, and the flawed pursuit of justice. The first stanza begins by highlighting the ephemeral nature of worldly achievements and positions of authority. The glories of bloodline and societal status are depicted as mere shadows, lacking substantial meaning. The line "There is no armour against Fate" suggests that no matter how high one's position or how well protected they may appear, death will ultimately come for everyone, including kings and rulers. Death, represented as a figure laying icy hands, reminds us that even those with the most power and influence must face mortality. The imagery of the "crooked scythe and spade" symbolizes the leveling effect of death, as all individuals, regardless of their status, are equal in death.


The second stanza explores the paradoxical nature of seeking justice through violent means. The phrase "A hateful cure with hate to heal" denotes the futility of attempting to rectify injustices by responding with aggression or vengeance. The mention of a "bloody help with blood to save" questions the effectiveness of violence as a means of achieving justice. It suggests that resorting to violent measures only perpetuates a cycle of harm and does not lead to true justice. The line "Justice metes a premature grave" suggests that the pursuit of justice can be thwarted or corrupted when it becomes tainted by hatred, leading to an untimely demise or failure.


The third stanza critiques the glorification of war and the valorization of physical scars. The lyrics suggest that those who seek recognition or glory through their wounds and military achievements are ultimately empty pursuits. The line "First let them die, then pass the stars" implies that one's fame or reputation is ultimately meaningless in the face of death. Rotten Fame, depicted as a personified entity, will soon forget and diminish the significance of their actions. This highlights the transient nature of fame and suggests that it is not a true measure of one's worth or legacy.


The final stanza concludes with a reminder of the fleeting nature of power and wealth. The image of "death's purple altar" symbolizes the inevitability of death for even the most powerful and victorious individuals. The line "See where the victor-victim bleeds" conveys the idea that even those who have achieved great success or triumphed over others will eventually meet their end. The lyrics caution against arrogance and pride in one's accomplishments, as death is the ultimate equalizer. It is only through the actions of the just, depicted as those who strive for fairness and righteousness, that true prosperity and lasting impact can be attained, persisting even after their physical bodies have turned to dust.


Line by Line Meaning

The glories of our blood and state
The achievements and power of our society and government


Are shadows, not substantial things
Are temporary and illusory, not enduring


There is no armour against Fate
There is no defense against destiny


Death lays his icy hands on kings
Death eventually comes for even the most powerful rulers


Sceptre and crown
Symbolic representations of power


Must tumble down
Will eventually fall


And in the dust be equal made
Will be reduced to the same level as everyone else


With crooked scythe and spade
By the tools of death and burial


A hateful cure with hate to heal
Using hate as a means to overcome hate


A bloody help with blood to save
Using violence as a solution to violence


A foolish thing with fools to deal
Engaging in foolish actions with foolish people


Justice metes a premature grave
Justice is destroyed before its time


Some men with swords may reap the field
Some men may triumph in battle


And plant fresh laurels where they kill
And be rewarded for their victories


But their nerves at last must yield
But their courage will eventually falter


They tame but one another still
They only subdue and harm each other


Early or late
Sooner or later


They stoop to fate
They submit to destiny


And must relinquish the murmuring breath
And must surrender their fleeting life


When they, pale captives, creep to Death
When they, weak prisoners, approach death


Let others deck their pride with scars
Let others boast about their battle wounds


And of their wounds make brave, lame shows
And exaggerate their wounds to seem heroic


First let them die, then pass the stars
First let them die, then face judgment in the afterlife


When rotten Fame will tell their blows
When their tainted reputation will reveal their actions


The garlands wither on your brow
The honors and achievements fade away


Then boast no more your mighty deeds
So don't brag anymore about your great accomplishments


Upon death's purple altar now
On the solemn occasion of death


See where the victor-victim bleeds
Witness the victorious one suffering


Your heads must come
You will face your own demise


To the cold tomb
To the cold grave


Only the actions of the just
Only the righteous deeds


Shall grow and prosper in their dust
Will have a lasting impact even after their death




Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Written by: Nosce Teipsum

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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