We are the city,
whose walls guard the graves of ghosts.
The drumbeat echoing beneath our feet,
tells of zombie minds strolling the streets.
Yet now is our time
for dreamers, and believers!
To scale the enemies walls,
fighting the forgotten ghosts.
Goliath guards our city walls,
enslaving an unborn generation.
Now we hear the trumpet call,
begging faithful tremblers to whisper once more.
while the forgotten ones call to their Lord.
This is our cities hour.
The saints look on in jealousy.
To stand within the ranks that you command.
The end of history beckons,
to the children marching on bleeding knees.
For the time before time,
begs to come home.
To see the slaves who defend our gates,
bow to another King.
You broken ones,
suicidal ones,
helpless ones,
and lonely ones.
Wait until the leaves fall off the trees.
Then this ghostly city will turn to ash.
While a city of dead men comes back to life.
The oldest revolution is on the way to hit your shores.
