Lights dim slowly, shutting out hope,
Of another tomorrow, yet we can still cope
With the thought that all of bravest are gone,
Trapped in their sorrows and left on their own.
Filtering in, bringing with it the song
Of machine guns and misery, wisdom and wrong.
It sings of existence, distorted and torn,
Where truth has been lost and is not yet reborn. The life of a hero, the death of the lost,
Is struck in the records, but what is the cost?
One to the grave and a million to dwindle,
Or a million gone and that one left to kindle,
The fire of a nation, a hatred so great.
All choices are conscious, no matter the fate.
Every swing of the hammer, every drop of the nail,
Drives us closer and closer to passing the veil.