A clanging bell of a utopian society shifts violently on the deck
With each passing second a story unfolds through its cracks
A master of the sea waves his pistol in the air and fires a shot into the crowd
Finally there is a place to rest his feet
As thumps hit the crashing waves in droves
I see it now the story of struggle that beseeched my blood
I am the tainted violet in a field of reeds
I am in a foreign land of pulpus wine with minds wrought with greed and sin
I do not mind the dog’s howl or the bird’s song
So why must others care for my cries of freedom
Why must the bells keep clanging despite the cracks they plainly show
Why must I suffer the sharp pinch of the reeds on my precious petals
I am forsaken despite my pleads of innocence
And the devilish heathens call to bear my arms once again
A sharp red blaze of glory causes a circus outside
He lay crisp and smoldered on the trampled earth
I cry for the little old oak I used to hang from
For now that word has a new meaning
I cry for papa but the dancing shadows around his lifeless body just laugh
What a brilliant sight the king of fire he cackles in the pale moonlight
And devours everything elegant in his wake of destruction
Leaving nothing
But
Dust
The ghosts swiftly flee in the wake of their chaos
And I sit in the rubble of what was once our hope of freedom