| But there were changes first, in the valley floors.
|
| Where the creatures lurk in the dark no more.
|
| Seen in weakness now, they may attack at will.
|
| With our swords we’ll stand, as one body we’ll stand!
|
| In unison crying aloud in defiance of death!
|
| But there’s a way to build a kingdom, bonding units with one true host.
|
| For this is real, the walking dead fight, raise an alert.
|
| Attackers from the west they scream with renewed hatred!
|
| They fight hard and intense.
|
| Rest assured in the strength of your King, drink only of waters which won’t
|
| recede.
|
| Father of dreams, pick up the broken wings; |
| and fill the spaces,
|
| where fallen saints are lacking, bring us visions, visions of our true home.
|
| Taking solace in the comfort stemmed from angels whispers, encouragement to press on…
|
| Into the fire!
|
| Pick up the broken wings!
|
| Warriors of might, prep your armor, and charge forth with swords and shields
|
| raised high into the sky, with an urgent cry a cry of hope.
|
| The clouds are moving side to side, shreds of white light are squeaking by,
|
| with attention to the mourning, the widow and the child.
|
| Love does not fail.
|
| Breathe, breathe the freshest of air, see the whitest of white, and press on through the fight. |