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Blood red sky in the morning

On this day of execution

Thrust to the Colosseum sands

Amidst jeers of persecution

Gathered, our tribe of ten

In this funeral procession

For the crime of professing Christ

We march to martyrdom

The emperor takes his seat

And the charges are read aloud

Howling, taunting choirs

Blasphemous, venomous shouts

Holding our hearts with courage

In the chains which we are bound

Lo, the gates swing open

From the darkness echoes forth growls

Though our story ends in death

At the hands of this pagan world

Our souls met with Christ in paradise

In the beatific vision, behold

We may be gone and our enemies rejoice

But nothing will stop the spread of the word