As we are called there before the emperor
In his plush robes, crown and royal diadem
We have only to then realize, the emptiness
For his great pretense is man become god
Around him are his sycophantic whisperers
His throne offended, we've been condemned
His wealth immense, and yet he is penniless
For our walk into eternity will not be stopped
Our persistence and suffering will be redeemed
And his path stunted remains in perceived glory
Of false deity, and pretense to power
And in the end he will no longer exist
For there will come a singular hour
When we will at last be made free
