Quemis

Mill Stone

Sleep in a nest of needles
The queen of stones fitfully
Dreams of fires below her
Ever tomorrow\'s trouble

Sometimes you can see people
Chanting desperate, proper
All they hold melts around them
Death always for the humble

Fiefdom gained through extortion
Bread always tasted like fear
Work void of holy purpose
Her praise they wheeze through rubble

Tyranny normal evils
Freedom dreams that never were