A strange Ethereal forming

There's some strange translucent light shining
A weird fount of purple flowing
There's a strange collection of people forming,
At the edge of the abyss.

I can't really make out-- they're chanting,
I can't really move, they're stomping
A great tide of people marching,
I'm somewhere in the middle and I can't work out where.

They look like... normal people-- all transfixed on where they're gazing
They look like they've just come from jobs that don't pay much for what they work
They seem like they're a unit
They pace, all joined in thinking
They seem too much for counting
A swell of moving, writhing sides

They're zigzagging and multiplying round as they cascade off the edge like a waterfall... Violently engaging in this tribal dance, this war
Before I know they go and plummet, a hundred more... A thousand shout and jump-- and on the horizon
...they're countless

I keep moving forwards-backwards left-right clockwise ...towards the abbys, a shining light where I glimspe at ethereal forms.
Out of black night shines a golden claw I've never seen before.

Its warded in the power flowing
Of driven message they're showing
As it cuts in rags to pieces the curtain that was up... so they can finally see the stars

All is black
then all is light

All is day
Then tortured night

We are a people exponentially thrown with the current flow

Towards the wilderness of our own

Society where the masses whisper anarchy

&Revolution.