The cities did shake when they flew over
those sweet fighters of the elite
they screamed industrial noise
but were pure as driven snow

They called in mighty numbers
the coming of their Lord
sweet it is to hear them calling
the noise they make calling their Lord

With wings untainted
doth his majesty arise
willing so now to weave
and much noise casts spells

He has risen with sword in hand
to what God commands
to light he does now stand
to the glory of his Lord God

By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris