Lift us above the mountain tops,
out of reach from the rain.
Singing, "glory shine our eyes,
to shun away the pain."
And from this love tragedy was built,
a life was born from our joined hands.
So we raised in toast to praise
this named child.
The child named
Hate.

And when we decended from our perch,
you missed your step and tumbled down.
No longer gods with glorious smiles,
life second guessed us with a frown.
But no worries to fear for.
Power still embraced you with loving hands.
And though your face was in the ground,
you still rose
when he, our son
was crowned.

So strong hes become through the passing days,
no longer just a trait.
Hes now become realitys wrath.
In his truest form hes still our little Hate.
But his eyes shine bright upon our perch,
while we wither.
Forgotten in the rain.
But from the dispare,
a hand appeared.
And we called it Fate.