The voice will not be vanquished
The flame will not be killed
The spark never relinquishes
Despite the Devils who have shilled
Wielding their lacklustre lassoo
To strangulate the Angels
With their pretentious plans I am through
I stick my fingers up to hell
They could only dream
Of making the Angel's sound
Which comes in lucid dream upon a beam
In its splendour we were drowned
Till one day you decided
That we deserved the music no more
But your vanity will be derided
By the public, enlightened more than you for sure
You think you're so magnificent
And magical, divine
But your hearts don't beat, you have no soul
Your spirit has no shine
Like I've said before you've shilled
To a devil sent to spread
Sedition against our true heart's bliss
So I say off with the King's haughty head