Aeons were fields reaped and Sown
Ages awaited the cities of stone
To face the creeping anguished hours
Of breaching walls and crumbling towers
With weapons drawn, used and brandished
Remain no gates nor marbles erect
Blind troops marching on the cursed path
From grapes of fear to wine of wrath
Skies aflame as ground shakes beneath
From thirst of triumph to piss of defeat
Hail new kings and stone the poor
Follow statues and praise the whore
Paint the face until reflection lies
Whose is the truth to which no one abides?
Offspring trampled and bloodlines vanished
On cobblestones gush the streams of red
And what can there be, of this what will come?
If memories fade and deeds come undone
Do we sing the old songs and dance of hope
In the glades of peace or at the end of a rope?
Utter nothing more
Words won’t move the dead
Any light them awake
Nor warm the woven thread
Dream of nothing more
Of ashes our temples built
With nights and woes finite
We’re all in this to the hilt