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.