| | Written: SEPT 12, 2002 |
| Our language lies, | | |
| Dying and withering, | |
| | As our ageless hearts. |
| Rendered impotent, | | |
| We are granted rights, | |
| | Rights we had, |
| To the Fallen Lands. | | |
| | |
| Shrunk too small, | |
| | As our confidence so fades. |
| Yet some tragedies will not occur. | |
| | Our warriors’ courage will not relent, |
| Fight to the bitter end shall we. | | |
| Looking at all our desolation, | |
| | We need to rebuild, |
| Seeking ourselves in the world | | |
| A land made around us. | |
| | Fallen, we must gather, |
| We will once more show our pride. | | |
| We crawl to pick up the pieces. | |
