by the trappings Of words that make the outlines Blur on the showplace that made history The folk is willed To parrot the dished up lure of a higher meaning
Cheat, you had to create An enemy stereotype To retrieve your absolution A forthy poor excuse for your foray To from the of your encumbrance
March in with ten legions Whilst the crucial weapon's not he pillum But the feather in your hand Penned in blood Your tall rule the forum Altering it into the battlefield
I, the guise Evoking these baring fears Pestering your conscript fathers I smile at my demise while I die I cherish the roots of my perseverance