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The old ways will rise again,
we must insist on this.
No matter what you see in them,
no matter how they mock,
letís take a look now, and dig deep within
the heart and soul youíve rejected so.
Many are weak, held down by man,
the fear they tell, the lies they hide behind.
But if you look you can see
the deadness in their eyes,
hear the emptiness in their words
as they trod to church on Sundays.
If something is to be feared itís them,
the christians, denying protection
of the earth they claim
their god Ďcreatedí.
Whose women stay weak, enabling
destruction, this their maddening retreat.
Sick am I, even sicker are they.
So rise I say, to the Old Ways,
and understand who you are,
how connected we once were.
See; look around at our young.
So lost, and hurt, and by us!
No honor, there is nothing sacred,
so letís paint our faces, and dance naked,
maybe this lust for death will end.
Daughterís pick up your swords.
Take up your shields and defend yourselves!
Youíre being destroyed right before
your own eyes, in blind denial
you see no fault in their betrayal.
I urge you to learn to fight,
with your bodies, with all your might.
It will help you heal your minds,
keep your strength and end
the breaking of our kind.
That is where their secrets lay.
Keep them locked up in their cages
of beauty, sex, ignorance, and addiction.
Nothing sacred anymore,
so who should care if I take up the sword?