Lyrics

"There once was a peon, small and meek, bent by the lash, too tired to speak. Digging the pits, hauling the stone, breaking his back, bloodied alone."

(The beat slows, voices low, hushed like the whisper of the name they all know.)

"One day he stopped. Just stood there still. No rage in his eyes, just fire, just will. The warlord laughed, ‘Look here, a champ!’ But the peons whispered, soft like the damp—"

(The voice rises, joined by others in the chant, like the crackle of a rising flame.)

"Chimpeon! Chimpeon! Stand up tall! Chimpeon! Chimpeon! Never fall! Fist to the dirt, stare to the sky! One Chimpeon falls, but the name won’t die!"

(The rhythm builds, the tools striking harder, the story growing louder, carried by every peon who knows the weight of a name.)

"The warlord’s axe came down like steel, cut through flesh, but never his will. He fell, aye, sure—but so did fear. And the name—oh, the name!—rang far and near!"

"Chimpeon! Chimpeon! Stand up tall! Chimpeon! Chimpeon! Never fall! Strike with fire! Strike with shade! One Chimpeon fades, but the next is made!"

(The chant slows again, voices dropping to a near whisper, as if spoken in the dark of a warlord’s tent where the name lingers even in silence.)

"He is not one, but all who rise, the peon who stands, with fire in his eyes. A warrior, a rogue, a healer’s hand, but never again a peon in sand."

(A deep silence settles. Then, one last voice—one last chant, slow and heavy like a hammer striking stone.)

"Chimpeon stands, Chimpeon falls. But the name remains, whispered in halls. One day, one night, you’ll hear the call... And if you stand, you are Chimpeon, too."

(The fire crackles. The peons sit in silence. Then, one by one, they return to their work—heads held just a little higher, hands gripping their tools just a little tighter, as the name lingers in the air like smoke and legend.)