A glimpse of the hot sky above
The vibrating sun beats down its blistering drum
It's melody scares it's creations below
and boils the blood of its soldiers

A glimpse of the trashed and scattered
The trembling scenery moves it's shifty ground
It's sights and sounds leave permanent scars
and picks up the men that fight

A glimpse of the ill and innocent
The stone cold eyes freeze the fear inside
It's matter held tightly in time
and neither sways or is lost

A glimpse of the fellow brethren
the angles lift their spirits to the golden clouds
It's past creates turmoil for the present
and only deepens mans bleeding scars

What can your god do to help?
Or is this the devil's charging yelp?
So who's to save all those soldiers we make
From their bones that continue to break

Was it the monarch who sent the address?
Or the vengeance that coiled up inside us?
Controlling every move we spawn
Until we finally act on...