Prophecy

From the furnace, the One shall come,
When the hour draws near, a Savior will be born,
The Saviour of the Seven Races,
The hope of the world,
Old things will pass away and a new erra will have begun,

Followed by twelve faithful pillars,
One shall crumble and fail,
Through pain, sword, and fire, the end will draw nigh,
In trust and song they will ride into battle,
A halo on the head,
A banner of a lion and a lamb leading the way,
At the hour of dawn, the Saviour will be vanguished,
Tears and ash on the battlefield will fall,
As new life is birthed,
As the heart of a lover is crushed,
Eternally alone till death brings him,
To the very right-hand, the hand holding his tears and soul,