The Rise

Stand up, do you hear the songs of redemption

Coughed out from these blackened lungs?

As the bitter martyred voices harvest the songs

To ruins, ruins

Pump the veins with blood and demons

To breed havoc baptized in venom

The screams turn to whispers

And we forget it

Do you see the streets turn cold and red?

As millions of swollen hands are unable to close or clench

In a cycle of filth, the rewards are reaped

In ruins, ruins

And now we're safe

With blood in our own mouths

Swallowed in faith

Spit it out

The fear soaks in

Pointing the way to the horizon

Do we choke on our sins?