no habrá paz para los malvados

There'll be no rest for the wicked

There's no song for the choir

There's no hope for the weary

If you let them win without a fight

given to fly

a wave came crashing like a fist to the jaw
delivered her wings, "hey, look at me now"
arms wide open with the sea as her floor
oh, power, oh

she's.. flying
whole
high.. wide, oh