Break  The  Fangs  Of  The  Wicked  -  Woe  Of  Tyrants

The  darkness  will  not  subside.

Hands  are  reaching  at  the

Footsteps  stumbling  in  the  night.

The  stars  can  light  the  way,

Countless  eyes  ablaze.  A  lamp

Shining  truth.  In  a  corner

Roaches  claim  the  kingdom,  they

Scatter  in  the  light.  With  cloak

Of  dark  words,  they  wage  this

Fight.  Across  the  room  is

Justice,  the  love  for  which  we

Stand.  It  will  break  the  fangs  of

Wicked  men,  and  crush  in  it's

Hand.  One  truth  remains  in  mind:

This  place  is  not  our  home,  with

Every  shout  we  waste,  with  every

New  disgrace,  this  land  will  rot

And  turn  to  sand.  But  are  we  of

Mind  to  receive  a  salutation?  The

Knock  on  the  door,  the  cell  decays

Away,  into  a  swirl  of  scarlet

Disarray,  a  moment  to  catch  our

Breath  and  begin  to  fly  away  far,

Fly  free..  Amazed  eyes  approved

This.  Embarassed,  nobles  turned

Away.  Victims,  young  men

Screaming,  for  it's  for  this  in

Which  we've  prayed:  For  those  who

Can't  fight,  for  those  who  won't

Fight,  find  strength  within,

Through  the  love  of  One.  Bonded

In  chains,  which  spark  as  they're

Broken,  sanctified  will  march.  The

Night  is  quiet.  Dew  laden  branches

Extend  lies  of  a  verdict  brewing

Within.  Hearts  go  out  to  the

Tortured  ones,  seeking  out  the

Sun.  Hold  on  through  the  darkened

Times.  Reviving  as  heroes  do

Rise,  overtop  the  kings,  screaming

Alive,  set  fire  to  the  night.

Beyond  this  great  escape,  where

The  darkness  cannot  go.  They've

Preyed  on  those  who  can't  fight.

On  those  who  won't  fight.  We've

Prayed  for  light  on  this