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There is a growing
Golden light
Flowered and folding
Behind the mirror of your eyes

If an angel could hold up
In his poshed white hand
I know he believes it
Like a bird to the sky

Now you are a warrior
Who will conquer this land
On a horse made of clouds
You will scour the sands

Some people say
God is long dead
But I heard something inside you
With my head to your chest

Oh, then
All the wrong
They say
I have done

Their lies
A seed
Of a million more
Just waiting to become

Send them home
Send them home
Send them home
Send them home

Use your sword
Use your voice
And destroy
And destroy

Then begin again

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