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 he's become through the
passing days,
no longer just a trait.
He's now become reality's wrath.
In his truest form he's still our
little Hate.
But his eyes shine bright upon our
perch,
while we wither.
Forgotten in the rain.
But from the dispair,
a hand appeared
and we called it Fate.