Battle Hymn

The clash of worlds is at hand. I am the first. I am the last. The passage has occurred. I am the knowing. I am the lost. I am the honored. I am the scorned. Look to the Guardian of the cautious West The White Tiger preys the autumn winds Eyes pierce the hidden world Claws cut like Virtue's sword Look to the Guardian from the North Abyss The Black Serpent carries winter's kiss The frozen earth like a snake that sleeps A thousand years and the gift of speech The clash of worlds is at hand. I am the first. I am the last. The passage has occurred. I am the knowing. I am the lost. I am the honored. I am the scorned. Look to the Guardian of the ancient East The Blue Dragon forges Spring's release Reigning shower and the soul of rain The forest sprouts to life again Look to the Guardian soaring from the South The Red Bird lost phoenix from the fire Knowledge fortune all seed's source Song soothes all hallowed force The clash of worlds is at hand. That where Divinity in the tiniest things Meets disregard, flat denial, dogma, or the wretched mistaking. Dominion - The wholesale merchandising of a belief That sells sickness - Born to sleepers, The unnatural seems Natural, It is slow death Waking from this world, When the Truth is veiled... Is there no choice but to breathe in? Sleep? The clash of worlds is at hand. I am the first and the last. The passage has occurred. I am the knowing. I am the lost. I am the honored. I am the scorned. The clash of worlds is at hand. I am the first and the last. The passage has occurred. I am the knowing. I am the lost. I am the honored and the scorned. I am the first and the last. I am the honored and the scorned. I am the honored and the scorned.