Instrumenty
Ensembles
Opera
Kompozytorzy
Wykonawcy

Teksty: As Cities Burn. Empire.

And I was a middle son
Between two wayward ones
I was more deserving of my parent's love

I had an angel's smile
Hiding a vulture?s bite
I had no use for Your redeeming blood
Aren't I glory, glorious?

Glory, glorious
Aren't we glory, glorious?
Aren't we worthy, worthy of
Hearts at our feet?

?Cause I was a Pharisee
I never saw my need for grace
Then your love, it came to me
Stood next to mine
And I saw that I was poor

It showed me I was poor
Show us, we are
Show us, we are

Glory, glorious
We are glory, glorious
Not from what good we have done
But from being the least

Glory, glorious
We are glory, glorious
Not from what good we have done
But from being the least

Glory, glorious
Glory, glorious
Oh, I don't know
How I was made

My heaven tower sways
Atop their fleeting praise
God, I don't know
How I was made

Glory, glorious
Are we glory, glorious?
Are we worthy, worthy of
Hearts at our feet?

Glory, glorious
We are glory, glorious
Not from what we've done
But being the least

I was a wicked one