I am but a clanging cymbal in the night.
I have danced the dance of sacrifice.
I make no promises as I stand before tyranny
But to offer my own life for hope of liberty,
But now this I do with great cost,
For my calling is higher than mere tradition or its loss,
So I hold high a sword of pure silver,
I sup slowly from a golden cup with a quiver,
I raise up the flag of my own martyrdom,
As I drown in the final Waters of my Freedom,
My legacy is my own life and death,
For the tyrant cannot bear its faithfulness or depth,
Yet the fiend remains to devour all truth.
Drawing life from all he touches but cannot mute,
So as to erase the Book of Liberty and Life,
But its pages are the hearts of a people in strife
Its script written in the blood of the oppressed,
Proclaiming one life extinguished for the many now to be blessed.