Skywards, the prayers we send, of no avail    No fear of death will walk among us    Almost too limb to throw the stones    Macrhing into darkness, bowed down with grief and marked by enslavement    All the prayers we sent, of no avail    They went unheard    Of no avail, the lives we gave    Our weakened legs and tattered shoes will cause no sound on icy streets    Almost too weak to cry out the spell    His servants wont slow down our steps    Blood red will be those streets and burning castles will leave    Cursed be the God who was deaf to our prayers    As we died in freedom their machines broken down for a day