Reaching hands- circling down I see it twist to nothing
Torn from what it meant, cut from existence..
My fingers bleed, but reaching hands are not weak
The light that once burned so bright, has now been cast a dismal grey
Fighting to keep the voice alive, I cannot let it end this way..
I'm held- in the arms of the few!
I walk in line with the sacred, never breaking my vow
I swear to you
rise [bad word] strong, a vision to which it belongs
Purity of the mind and body, to keep the resistance moving on..