sold. "Arise, arise," he cried so loud, With a voice without restraint, "Come out, ye gifted kings and queens And hear my sad complaint. No martyr is among ye now Whom you can call your own, But go on your way accordingly And know you're not alone." I dreamed I saw St. Augustine, Alive with fiery breath, And I dreamed I was amongst the ones That put him out to death. Oh, I awoke in anger, So alone and terrified, I put my fingers against the glass And bowed my head and cried (xguitar.com)