White picket lines of peaceful persuasion
Cannot undo the cost of invasion
Endless fine lines of baser perversions
Weakened strains of moral conversions
Flawlessly wielding falsified searches
What will become of us all?

Cold, calculating meaningless data 
Hiding underneath the smiling strata 
Clinging to less fortunate ideas 
Laughing, dragging, while dreaming of sions
Intricate veins coursing with curses
What will become of us all?

Meanwhile, one white robed throng preaches the Writ
Tenaciously keeping holy flames lit
Falling valiant, bleeding from vicious slits  
Ten thousand swords critically slashing hits
Battered, beleaguered saints climb past ashen fritz 
What will become of us all?

One bright light pierces the eastern sky
A triumphant shout falls from mountain highest   
One brilliant white horse gracefully flies
The armies of Heaven closely aligned 
Every blood-stained voice shouts toward the sight
What will become of us all?