We will not ride alone on this momentous journey.
We will ride gathering our numbers, from the great mountains.
We will travel to the valley of rivers, towards the great ocean.
For we have a great army.
Those who enslaved us with their power, stand on the top of the hill.
They stare down over the army below.
An army of vengeance we have gathered.
We will ride to the battle field at the great buildings.
Our intent is to wage war.
Fear will not take us.
You are weak supremacy, you will die by the sword.
You will die by the hand of my fellow warriors.
This is war.
Blood will be spilt.
Men will draw their last breaths as they fall back onto mother earth.
Mother Earth will soak up the spilled blood of our brothers and sisters.
We will be fierce and haste not.
We the suppressed will not retreat.
We the people will rise, with swords and fists.
We are ready to die for what is equitably ours.
This is not an illusion.
The fight against the money mongers, the powers that be.
Those that hold the power, will feel our angry wrath.
None will go unscathed.
We will watch the blood spill in and about the great buildings.
Down the concrete stairs it will flow, rich, deep cherry red.
Into the green of the grass, it flows.
Fear will choke your breath.
Reflections of your past, rushing before you.
Thoughts of the dead, invade your mind.
Hollow is the cry of war, as we charge ahead to fight the battle.
To take the final stand, to give it our all.
Justice will reign by the sword and the all mighty hand.
Judgement day has arrived with this great army gathered beside us.
We will ride, steadfast into the fray.
Make no mistake this day will come upon the powers that be.