Arms of the Few - Strife
Reaching hands- circling down I see it twist to nothing
Torn from what it meant
Cut from existence
My fingers bleed
But reaching hands are not weak
The light that once burned so bright
Has now been cast a dismal grey
Fighting to keep the voice alive
I cannot let it end this way
I'm held- in the arms of the few
I walk in line with the sacred
Never breaking my vow
I swear to you
A rise of commitment strong
A vision to which it belongs
Purity of the mind and body
To keep the resistance moving on
Arms of the few
Arms of the few
Arms of the few
Arms of the few
Arms of the few
Arms of the few
Arms of the few
Arms of the few
Arms of the few
Arms of the few
