We are the fallen,
Under the feet, downtrodden,
The iron rule, oppressed,
Our fate unknown, depressed,
But we will rise again,
With only the few that remain,
The beautiful ones are not yet born,
Maybe this was about the young ones,
That will become warriors,
Then they will be our saviours,
For, they will be under our grooming,
Men, stronger imitation of the aging,
They will go with burning zeal,
In support of the ideal,
The will in patience be waiting,
Until they hear him coming,
Then, arms they will take up,
And make that barrier pop,
And the trophy we will then lift,
For we will not suffer defeat,
If one of them is struck with the lance,
Two will rise to take his place,
And when it's over,
we will stand by the tree,
And sing of how we got free,
But until then, we lay low,
And watch the warriors grow,
By the day we pray like popes,
Not to diminish our hopes,
For one day we will rise again,
Just the few that remain,
And take our place,
While wearing velvet and lace,
One day....
Just one day......
