The demos of France rise to light,
To silence the cavernous glut of king.

Paris glows a bright hot white,
As the echoes of torment sing.

The people gather all their might,
To snap the golden chain.

The masters of the people’s plight,
Claw back to save their reign.

As thunder cracks to end the slight,
Paris glows a deep dark red.

The fall of this great sight,
Fills our hearts with dread.