Father tell me the battle’s won.
It’s getting heavy, it weighs a ton.
I packed my bag, went down the road.
How can I let this go?
Let the shoulder straps sink into me.
I smelled the air, I smelled the trees.
But when that god said,
“give up your soul.”
How can I let it go?
If I do, where would I go?
Up on the mountains high,
it sits alone among its guise.
Weapon drawn, the earth shakes.
I cry when I awake.
Will this love come to men?
It is fear I see within.
I can’t believe the angels won.
Now it sits a broken throne.
The mad god was to loathe.
Trumpets sound, the sky cracks.
That god isn’t coming back
Up on the mountains, now in mist,
there’s a new republic in our midst.
With soldiers small and tall,
it’s for the people most of all.
Then listen to our woes.
They heal the sick,
and feed the poor.
And among this new world,
the god creeps up still.
Push it back until dawn.
See that jealous god finally fall.
I can’t believe the angels won.
I wipe the sweat as I awake.
This paradise was mine to make.
I see the people rise and fall.
What was the point of this all?
I see the greedy riding high,
leaving the weak all behind.
I need the angels grace this once.
I need the angels to win this one.
