The Rising

Come all those sailors from the blackest sea of space,

Burned by air that turned to fire,  
And yet whose feet still reached the shore  

Come all the miners, the 33, blinded by the dust,  
while the rich were blinded by greed,  
And who still found their own way home  

Come all the fathers,  
who today teach their sons,  
And tomorrow will be the students  

Come all who raised their voice to  
The great wound upon the sky,  
Until at last the scars faded  

And now the sun rises,  
and fades every stain  
on another page of the endless story