Strange things the tides have brought
The sea has worn away your walls
It washed away your humble pride
Three generations hid for despair
Inside that armored barricade
Three generations of salty seas
Have licked upon your bloody wounds
Your fortresses now consumed
Your people bow to another throne
Your guardians are those the people hate
Now the land has spit you out
Like Israelites to Babylon
Now you lust for golden gods
The blind gods whom you see.
Yet now the tide is going back
The fields are ripe for harvest
Pardoned are the holy sinner’s sins
Now us sleepy dreamers
Its time to dream once more
Now us fiery fecal hearts
Do you feel the fire roar?
A new generation walks this land
Who knows not of the wardrobe doors
Nor of stone tables where Aslan died
Let us pray his rain would come
Your desert land will see rivers still
The greatest harvest ever seen
Will be ready for your children’s hand.
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