Not tonight, I’m so tired
I just want to lay my head upon this pillow
And pass away into a dream
That lets me rest within a meadow
I have warred since my creation
With doubts and fears and trials
And I have failed to take the time
To cast a deaf ear to these echoes
Chanting, as a ballad
A ferocious battle roar
Where soldiers, rushing headlong
Are lost and nevermore
All amongst destruction
The aftermath of war
Blackened, muddied soil
With the stench of blood and gore
And I, the wearied artist
Always painting of this picture
Tormented by the details
That always seem to linger
The sands pour into a desert
Yet time has not a victor
Just a grain upon another
Until the burden is a vigor
The frailest of foundations
Where I have raised my home
Just to crumble into nothing
Leaving me alone
Yet who am I to judge myself
As this is all I’ve ever known
The Empire of Destruction
And corruption of the throne
Stories all immortalized
In support of crafting doctrine
Where legends form identity
Leaving truth forgotten
And we are raised for fervent praise
While never knowing caution
Embracing of a system
That is nothing more then rotten
Just following the course
A history of violence
Marching in delight
To the might of this alliance
Blood and sacrifice
As our unquestioned guidance
While the soul writhes in shame
We’ve come masters of compliance
We never think to question
We never take a stance
Only rioting in street
When it serves to their command
The State and our allegiance
Raised into a brand
A system of corruption
To which we all have offered hand
This Holocaust of history
This genocide of honor
This hostile society
That only seeks to conquer
And what do we really expect
Having only ever offered
This hopeless, lifeless, loveless course
But to be raised as monsters
© GaratheDen
©HeartOfBabel