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Wasted like an old foot mat
In the middle of a fiery storm
Along the bank of life’s troubles
Failed by wobbling legs,
Still, I rise!
Battered like the village stream’s path,
Trampled, with face in the dirt,
Convulsing in waves of pain
Amidst my failing dreams,
Still, I rise!
I rise
Like an agile eagle
Soaring in the morning
In the glory of his hunt!
I rise
Like blossoming flowers
Kissed by the morning dews
In the glory of her beauty!
I rise
Like a lost lion king
Awakened to his identity
In the glory of his dominion!
I rise
Like the sun shining in the morning
Handsome, majestic, unmatched, domineering
In the wake of his blinding thrust!
