MANY WILL COME

Many will come down with their tattered wings and sing their songs. With my song, we will combine to make a beautiful opera. No longer feeling like strangers, we will fight the good fight, turning on the light to open their eyes and stepping out of the darkness to tell them the truth about their century-old lies.

Many have been told a story of moments of glory, but not one second did they speak of their triumphs, but we, the chosen ones, spoke of ours with a gun pointed to our heads and hung up to die on crosses burned at stake, our voices needing to be heard no mistake they keep throwing their damn stones, but many will come I'm no longer alone