"Sing little bird, for the fall of the city, for the fall of us. Why don't you sing little bird? Sing how you sang once when the sun was bright and the world full of joy. Must I beg? I did not beg when the sun shone bright and filled the world with grace. Oh, how my vanity has plagued me. Wash my sin, wash not my face. I am lost from you now, a sinner cast from paradise.
They have cut your wings, they have cut out your throat. They took your voice, they took from you so much and gave so few.
The city has fallen!
The city has fallen!
The city has fallen!
They took our beloved city, they took from us the cradle of nations. They brought down the walls of our faith and left us in ruin. They took the babe from the womb, threw it from the slave's rock, and called themselves heroes. Marching eternal, in golden triumph down a great road of bones. They took all from us, they took the pride of our yoke and the holy mother ever grieves at the sight of us.
They did not take our vision, our noble quest remains. Our holy land, our holy land is secure and free from barbarous hands. Oh sons of the eagle, steady thy hands, lest we be the righteous in an unholy land. For the time will come when the Hammer will rise, the Royal will awake, and the Victorious will emerge from the fog of death and reclaim the sun for us. Oh Vanity of Vanities, you have caused us great harm. The only son of the eagle will not wither and die.
For we shall come as lightning, and all the lands will celebrate. We shall dress in white, a day of renewal for the world oh God! By your grace, we shall return as lords of the world, protectors of the holy vision, and once more we shall serve. We shall meet again oh great eagle, one day we shall again be yours.
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