They have all become memories;
The world, the people, the walk.
All of which are behind my head,
The pictures as of days ahead, yet dead and gone.
Memories of the times on earth
where we rode,
The places we sat to oversee God’s Judgment.
When the rivers turned to blood;
When they became pure;
We saw!
Standing where the twelve stones fell;
Here we became family;
We saw!
That they have all become memories;
Days we remember;
Our souls yearned for someone to save us;
A man who grew from amongst us
but God sent from above us;
We saw!
Salvation gripping our trains;
that our flights went higher in dimensions:
Kingdoms in the air we built and today we’re here, we sit.
All have become memories;
These places where we rode.
On the back of horses, as Kings selected for the throne even before our eyes were opened.
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