While we stand here on the day of judgment,
Waiting for the final verdict...
Praying for our redemption...
In the midst of our imperfections.
You alone remained unblemished,
Cradled by your own salvation.
For you are like a tombstone,
Made of marble...
Painted white...
But inside are dead men's skeletons.
All rotten.
All rotten.
And the lambs are on the run...
For nobody wants to be the Last Samurai.