There is a growing
Golden light
A flower unfolding
Behind the mirror of your eyes

If an angel could hold up
In his polished white hand
I know he'd release it
Like a bird to the sky

Now you are a warrior
Who will conquer this land
On a horse made of clouds
You will scatter the sands

Some people say
God is long dead
But I heard something inside you
With my head to your chest

Within
All the wrong
They say
I have done

Their lies
A seed
Of a million more
Just waiting to become

Send them home
Send them home
Send them home
Send them home

Use your sword
Use your voice
And destroy
And destroy

Then begin again

Copyright: YOUNG GOD PUBLISHING
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