Not all men are heroes
And not all demons are locked
Below the heath
Where the piri-birds sing
Who among us will replace them
In the songs of old?
Where will power's shadow fall?
Who will have to crawl
Before the throne?
Perhaps it will be those who remember
In brightened day, that blackest night
Lingers just beyond the sun.
Or perhaps it will be no-one at all
Who sits on the throne above the heath
While those who one time slept beneath
Sing our praises