| 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. | |
| A rise of commitment strong, a vision to which it belongs. | |
| Purity of the mind and body, to keep the resistance moving on... |
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