...we could see in the distance hundreds of men.
|
their campsite illuminated by skin bound to stick.
|
|
Like scarecrows: too tired to dance
|
Too ashamed to look up
|
Taunted by their shadows
|
|
Their empty stares licked at your back
|
But at your parade we saw you stand tall
|
"Oh beautiful one" mother sheds a tear
|
"If only we could reach such heights"
|
We are dogs at your waist
|
|
"This is my love" we hear you say
|
"This is my strength" we catch your spit our lips shine prepared to sing your praises
|
|
You lose your tongue at the scent of burning flesh
|
And your mouth was so proud of your existence
|
|
I guess you wont be coming home a martyr...
|
|
-----------------
|
Girls Got A Face Like Murder
|
Fear Before The March Of Flames |