All our angels have gone. This smoldering dawn, we soldier on.

We've proved ourselves strong, not from how badly we've burned but how bravely we bond.
Apocalypse does not mean ruin but revelation.

In devastation, this infernus has injured us but it cannot endure us.
Even in the surreal, we do not surrender. We emerge from the embers.

The hardest part is not disaster but the after. Scorched earth is where the heart hurts,
where we restore first, where we start the work.

Today we mourn. Tomorrow, reborn, we end the burning.
Befriend the hurting. Mend those who face the flame.

We reclaim our city's name, a revelation that only this place tells.
To find our angels, all we need to do is look within ourselves.