The calm does bring a sudden clear reflection,
Destruction in your wake for all to see,
The tune you played to march to has us broken,
When tides do turn, look not to fault our glee.

To rise or not rise up may be the question,
To stand up and be counted, once for all,
Your reign on high’s demise is nigh, Almighty
One not chosen. Foundations crumble, fall.

Success you strive, the prize you long so dearly,
Our yoke, the cost, no more we sacrifice,
And when your palace lies in mounds around you,
None left to help rebuild, you’ll learn the price.