Independence is the soldier going into warfare.
I am that strong-willed soldier.
I hear their cries at me.
They say I'm too young to be in this war, as if I don't know what I'm fight for.
The darkness burns like heartless glass, cutting through my happiness.
This Roman town is legendary
and fear and hate are my adversaries.
Could I help these dying souls,
or is there a truth I must first unfold?
They're growing now, determined to win.
They want to drown me, to pull me in.
But I won't let them have me now, I've spoke my peace and stood my ground.
If I were to die tonight, my willing spirit would always fight.
Now I've found my purpose here; it is what I hold to oh so dear.
My steadfast leader shows me how and paints on me His holy crown.
My armour reflects who I am and why I'm in this pagan land.
I've seen their pain, what makes them hurt; it is what I call their wrongful quirks.
The soldier paces, she runs through the trees. She's looking for love and lost liberty.
White hope is fading!
It's glimmer is shady!
La speranza e vicina, ora lo vedo.
Independence, it owns me now.
It calls me to it's army proud.
I'll never move or back down,
I'm proud to stand this sacred ground.