| Gather brothers, gather sisters
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| Soothe your blisters by the fire
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| Though our bones may ache and groan
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| We know our spirits never tire
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| The temperature’s low, but our purpose is much higher
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| What’s behind us mustn’t blind us to divineness that transpires
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| Now our spires have expired, well, she rests in each of you
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| London’s not a place, it wasn’t left beneath our boots
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| And by grace, we have been blessed
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| With that most elegant of truth
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| You stand here not abandoned, but as testament and proof
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| For a city is its people, and its people are its heart
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| Stood together 'gainst the weather 'gainst the coming of the dark
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| Ne’er a lantern has been lit with oh so righteous a spark
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| When providence claimed continents, but provided us an ark
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| We moved north as awful forceful storms removed borders
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| Forced to leave the warmth behind
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| The daylight hours grew shorter
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| Unable to read at night, the people might dispute lawbooks
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| Ushering the death of joy, division made a new order
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| Brute force and discipline ensures all the citizens
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| Are chipping in sufficiently under threat of imprisonment
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| Liberty’s prohibited, retired, it’s mandatory compliance now
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| To keep the fire alight, we need to stamp any defiance out
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| We can ill afford the price of human rights
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| Nor pay the cost of anger
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| So we stifle scrutinising eyes astray with propaganda
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| The only way that we can pull through is under cruel rule
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| If a single person falls out of line, we all do
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| Morning gathering or evening prayer
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| We still battle for a season fair
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| We still huddle in the freezing air
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| For a summer that’s not even there
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| If that sun won’t rise on our horizon
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| We’ll march on to spite the skies
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| And find that wheel of progress so well worn
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| Brought us no shelter from the storm
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| I have heard that there are those who would defy us
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| Who’d choose oppression o’er ascension for the pious
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| Dissidents without repent are bent on questioning the dias
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| Twisted iron fist pariahs and their heretic messiah
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| Winter blizzards to infinity, so sing the hymns and litanies
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| Hand in and skin the sinners if you wish to skim divinity
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| Each shiver will deliver us deliverance in time
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| Burn the innocents for penitence if we preempt the crime
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| I’m protector of the truth, great erector of the new faith
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| Defectors and objectors can expect a second doomsday
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| Unquestioning our destiny, relentless we pursue fate
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| Alone, I have been chosen to be spoken through by true grace
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| Frozen omens say we should invoke another crusade
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| We rush to crush dissent from those who claim we must repent
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| How could a benevolent god subject us to such events?
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| Against the elements, precious seconds each of us has spent
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| Completing public penance could have
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| Been invested putting up the tents
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| Pragmatism’s borne of pessimism
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| Not a full blown pestilence infecting
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| Desperate residents with false hope
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| Now they’ve sworn oaths and pledged commitment to a cult
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| No mercy will be shown or quarter given, fetch the coiled rope
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| And hang them by the necks until its taut
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| The lesson learned is certain:
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| No forgiveness for giving attention to those worthless sermons
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| No measure of faith will keep you warm or sate your appetite
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| So pray heed the warning or we may just have to tax your life
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| Morning gathering or evening prayer
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| We still battle for a season fair
|
| We still huddle in the freezing air
|
| For a summer that’s not even there
|
| If that sun won’t rise on our horizon
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| We’ll march on to spite the skies
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| And find that wheel of progress so well worn
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| Brought us no shelter from the storm
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| Now the Book of Laws has closed, you’ve no hope to try and fight
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| As the people fall in line and march in time with iron might
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| Nonbelievers shan’t deceive us
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| We shall greet their cheek with grievance
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| In this ceaseless season
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| We redeem the meek with bleak obedience
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| Seeking each unheeding heathen
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| See them bleed or plead allegiance
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| Blessed be relief from freedom lest you feel the need for treason
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| Since the precept was decreed, its certainty was predetermined
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| Mere vermin are the people, thus they need to be subservient
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| They deserve paternal leadership, eternally prescriptive
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| Turn a leaf in the journal, weep as you read the scriptures
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| The Book of Laws is closed, it’s frozen shut and couldn’t thaw
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| But should the storm subside, it might be time to write a couple more |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song A Purpose for New London , by - Dan Bull. Song from the album Generation Gaming XX: The Next Generation (Gaming), in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп