The Burning Sea

afghanistan-war-children

As childhood perishes
Smoke covers the screams
Hearing but not seeing
The cost of a dream

Step back

Step away

From the faceless screaming of a burning sea

Standing up looking out at the blank canvas of ash
Scoured by the burning sea
A heavy hand upon your shoulder
Warning you back from the shore
Ambition brooks no rival nor memory
Duty and shame see out the eyes of the man with the heavy hand

Searing the screams into dreams of ash
The bodies perish but haunt all the same
Duty and shame make heavy the hand that warns
That warns of the cost

Honor turns to dust as the bridges burn
A warren of Horror
A house for the dead to pace
A home for the pain to turn to ice
Honor dies by the hand of duty

Build the pyre
Set alight with regret
The flames consume your honor
And as dreams turn to dust
The road chains you to destiny
A destiny of destruction
Though the smoke clouds the vision
The heart screams for the illusion of innocence
The Crime of the living so close to the burning sea

The Death of Yesterday

We destroy what we cannot possess then mourn the loss.
People die for just being
Ambitions burn the brightest as all the bridges burn
Becoming a pyre of conscience and humanity
So the bridges must burn
No surreptition
Nothing sublime
The only way up is down
The only way out is to die
The guard falls
One by one
Dishonor in honor
Glory in sacrifice
And the music drifts by as the fiddler plays
Soothing the conscience that carries
the weight of all the slain

The Empty People

Forget the chains that bound us, the high’s become normal.

And as we itch for that old feeling of liberation our vision gets blurred and our hearts

turn black, because we can’t turn back the clock, it’ll never feel like that first time, so we

fill the void with the only thing left, revelry and tyranny.

And the revolutionary becomes the Sadist as the high slips further and further away.