From the eternal grave of lives in spin,
The Stranger rises once again,
To take back the crown of glory,
And break the gate to this story,

For, once a man and now a Beast,
His lies had come before the Feast,
When all was well within the world,
And all in Hell had fire hurl,

The last strive to contest His Leader,
Came before each avid reader
Of the Old,
The New,
And each between,

As the gathering of angels and folk alike
Brought forth a final strike,
Against the one they thought had been
Their enemy from far back when

Eve laid her eyes upon the fruit,
And the Stranger softly played the flute
To a tune of feigning deep remorse
Despite him being the only source

For that which is and always was
Darkness inside each laugh he does
Before the One who built the Rock,
But now refuses to his way walk,

As the end draws nearer
With ever move,
And the children cry while trying to prove
They have lived a life in acts of good,

Following their Fathers beneath the hoods,
Still praying the Stranger may miss their soul,
As he comes to reap those who would console
To cut his power in halves of good and evil,

And failing to realize his plan of upheaval
For each nation,
One by one,
Will fall victim and embrace it shall
Of the glorious Stranger in battles royale,

'Til the fire rages deep within
Each town and country
When there's but one standing
Without a word of God demanding,

For he'd defeated each voice that deaf became,
And rose up in his father's name.