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Flames lit an evil fire
underneath the Heaven's skies;
the destroyers of her roof and spire,
were the crawling spits of light, like spies.
she stood high as a mountain,
in ancient beauty, towering tall.
smoke billowed like a gray fountain,
as she humbly tumbled to her fall.
she lived with grace, but fell without it
as her somber audience cried out,
though they tried, the flames that lit
were raging with red-yellow's, so devout.
our lady,
our lady,
as her elegant body crumbles low;
though smokey remains are now fading,
forever your remembrance will grow.
rise again, woman beauty!
rise again, lovely lady!
rise again, but in our hearts
your strong tower never fell.
your emblem of grace is here still,
though your body a fallen shell.
wave away the gray smoke
from the melancholy skies,
rise again, our sweet lady,
rise.

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