There is a growing 
Golden light
Flowered and folding 
Behind the mirror of your eyes

If an angel could hold up
In his poshed white hand
I know he believes 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 scour the sands

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

Oh, then
All the wrong
They say
I have done

Their lies
seed
Of a million more
Just waiting to [bad word] 
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