Whirlwind, I don't remember exactly where it is. Chris? Is that right? Or maybe it was another Chris (there could be another one) lying on the balcony. His cute ravens pecked him to death. You pick up a rocket launcher there.
Bow down and hear our cry,
Our earthly rulers falter,
Our people drift and die,
The walls of gold entomb us,
The swords of scorn divide,
Take not thy thunder from us,
Take away our pride.
G.K. Chesterton: English Hymnal