Reflective battle
You see a large man sitting
Quit in contemplation
Beyond him and within him
lies a battle thats unseen
Far beyond, the daily tumlit
clashes a unseen mounting tension
just under the shin
within the bones
and some unreachable place inbetween
Still in silent revernce
This warrier is in battle
against screaming hoardes of hideous things
to terrible to see
And there within the shadows of a lonly soul left standing
Joins a host of heavens finest
Outriding a glorious King
These, the Heavenly hosts, and King
Surround the beseiged warrier standing
Who holding cross strewn shield high
And sounds His Masters mighty name
The rank and file of satan, flinch
Stop dead in confused terror
the burn gone from hateful arrows
black swords lie silent in their sheaths
Not seeing but feeling He is backed
By a countless vanguard Holy
Knowing the victory is the Lords
This warrior Unsheaths his weapon ready
Light blinding off the blade
Striking out in fervent ,righteous violence
against the mocking minions many
Shriek the damned host of hades
As they fly off in shamed defeat
The King walks to the kneeling warrier
Places a hand apon his forehead
Annointed touch most blessed
A healing comes his way
And a large man rises up
Able to look at himself in a mirror
Not a wretch, but Godly Son
Bought by Godly Son most high, long ago
one more day, and battle won
By the Holy King of Hosts
Quit in contemplation
Beyond him and within him
lies a battle thats unseen
Far beyond, the daily tumlit
clashes a unseen mounting tension
just under the shin
within the bones
and some unreachable place inbetween
Still in silent revernce
This warrier is in battle
against screaming hoardes of hideous things
to terrible to see
And there within the shadows of a lonly soul left standing
Joins a host of heavens finest
Outriding a glorious King
These, the Heavenly hosts, and King
Surround the beseiged warrier standing
Who holding cross strewn shield high
And sounds His Masters mighty name
The rank and file of satan, flinch
Stop dead in confused terror
the burn gone from hateful arrows
black swords lie silent in their sheaths
Not seeing but feeling He is backed
By a countless vanguard Holy
Knowing the victory is the Lords
This warrior Unsheaths his weapon ready
Light blinding off the blade
Striking out in fervent ,righteous violence
against the mocking minions many
Shriek the damned host of hades
As they fly off in shamed defeat
The King walks to the kneeling warrier
Places a hand apon his forehead
Annointed touch most blessed
A healing comes his way
And a large man rises up
Able to look at himself in a mirror
Not a wretch, but Godly Son
Bought by Godly Son most high, long ago
one more day, and battle won
By the Holy King of Hosts