This is the last live city standing tall,
Through whats been done the devastation of a race,
Abolished tarnished hit from all sides by a reackless force,

I will be the voice of the voiceless
I will be the strengh of the weak
I will be the identity of the lost,

I am no more,

What good is gone what good is never-ending,
We're pushing past through all that's left to safeguard the helpless.
With thoughts of change long forgotten

They struggle to find hope in all that's lost,
Closed eyes praying for this hell to be over
Who will save them?
Who will perserve them?

Bring me your tired and your weak,
Bring me me you timid and your meek,
I'll shelter you from all the storm cut from the cold,
Away from harm,
And when the world caves in,
I'll stan between you and the end,
I am the hand that reaches,
I am the last of dying bread
I am the end of what's been done.