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English (British) - Passionate, engaging and dramatic - Internet video

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Voice Over • Video Narration
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Description

This is a poem written by Pete Greig.

Vocal Characteristics

Language

English (British)

Voice Age

Young Adult (18-35)

Accents

British

Transcript

Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
the vision by Peter Greg. So this guy comes up to me and says, What's the vision? What's the big idea? I opened my mouth and words come out like this. The vision, the vision is Jesus, obsessively, dangerously undeniably Jesus. The vision is an army of young people. You see bones, I see an army and they are free from materialism. They laugh at 9 to 5 little prisons. They could eat caviar on Monday and cross on Tuesday. They wouldn't even notice. They know the meaning of the Matrix the way the West was won. They are mobile, like the wind. They belong to the nations. They need no passport. People write their addresses in pencil and wonder at their strange existence. They are free, yet they are slaves of the hurting and dirty and dying. What is the vision? The vision is holiness. That hurts the eyes. It makes Children laugh and adults angry. It gave up the game of minimum integrity long ago to reach for the stars. It scorns the good and strains for the best. It is dangerously pure. Light flickers from every secret motive, every private conversation. It loves people away from their suicide leaps. They're Satan games. This is an army that will lay down its life for the cause a million times a day, it's soldiers choose to lose that. They might one day win the great well done of faithful sons and daughters. Such heroes are as radical on Monday morning as Sunday night. They don't need fame from names. Instead, they grin quietly upwards and hear the crowds chancing again and again. Come on. And this is the sound of the underground, the whisper of history in the making, foundations shaking revolutionaries dreaming. Once again, mystery is scheming in whispers. Conspiracy is breathing. This is the sound of the underground, and the army is disciplined young people who beat their bodies into submission. Every soldier would take a bullet for his comrade at arms. The tattoo on their back boasts. For me to live is Christ, and to die is gain. Sacrifice fuels the fire of victory in their upward eyes. Winners martyrs who can stop them? Can hormones hold them back? Can failure succeed can face scare them or deaf kill them