Off in the not to far off distance
The end of us relentlessly advances
The empire we thought was forever
Soon to be relegated to memory
Our once great and proud legacy
Corrupted by decadent arrogance
When they pick through the ruins of us
Will the judgment of history be kind?
Brought down not by a mighty army
But by a spiritual force we could not crush
The surge began many years before
In a remote region of the empire
A preacher who claimed to be king
Was executed for his treason
We thought that was the end of him
We believed we had buried his dream
How ironic that this prince of peace
Would take down our war machine
Now we find our glory receding
While the legend of this man grows
They call him the Son of God
They say he died for our sins
Does he forgive our part in his drama?
Is it possible to love your executioners?