| Before the angels, the arrows penetrate my back
|
| Hear the laughter, as they dig into my flesh
|
| And my decisions are echoing into eternity
|
| From this moment, the fight is raging; |
| the war is on
|
| Crying loud, hoping for the end of this power’s embrace
|
| For defense, infused with my spirit, forging new visuals
|
| With a striking prowess, prophetic men, pray for the cleansing
|
| Of every weapon we hold
|
| Again, the sun is blackened and the powers turn hot
|
| Spewing guilt into my wounds, crying loud, hoping for the end
|
| Of this power’s embrace, for defense
|
| Infused with my spirit, forging new visuals with a striking prowess
|
| Prophetic men, pray for the wisdom to use every tool that we can
|
| Avenge fallen brethren, who’ve been taken once
|
| And lift them to the sky, with a power forged in blood
|
| The arrows of our love show that while eclipsed
|
| We still believe the sun will shine upon this field and dry up every tear
|
| Power rages on, rages over sorrow, over hope passing
|
| Pray for cleansing and wisdom in dark times
|
| Even when it doesn’t shine but it burns with light
|
| For the creature shields its eyes from the untamed parts of night
|
| But now I see the glow, radiating off the angels
|
| Screaming out in tongues, firing into the air
|
| As the trumpeters blare a new song, of transformation from the old
|
| My hands are waving, frantically searching for weapons of my own
|
| I’m strengthened by numbers, the melodies of the angels from home
|
| Reach out your arms and believe in me
|
| Reach out your hands, and take this in
|
| Reach out your arms, and believe in me
|
| And open your eyes |