At Ludgate Hill
on the cracked and blackened cobbles of the town
the ashes fall to rest
As the tiny King of Birds he flutters down
to build a citadel
to light glory in the dark
and from hell
to breath hope in every heart
At Ludgate Hill
through the siren screams the heavens burn again
the city holds its breath
as the tiny little king in slumber bed
arises from the dust
to light glory in the dark
and through the frost
to breathe hope in every heart
At Ludgate Hill
where the towers of smoke and mirrors bruise the sky
the pilgrims huddle in
as the tiny King of Birds begins to cry
the people start to sing
to light glory in the dark
to ring the bell
and to breathe hope in every heart
on the cracked and blackened cobbles of the town
the ashes fall to rest
As the tiny King of Birds he flutters down
to build a citadel
to light glory in the dark
and from hell
to breath hope in every heart
At Ludgate Hill
through the siren screams the heavens burn again
the city holds its breath
as the tiny little king in slumber bed
arises from the dust
to light glory in the dark
and through the frost
to breathe hope in every heart
At Ludgate Hill
where the towers of smoke and mirrors bruise the sky
the pilgrims huddle in
as the tiny King of Birds begins to cry
the people start to sing
to light glory in the dark
to ring the bell
and to breathe hope in every heart