Few know the true lined face of mars
To charge across the desolation
Bayonets fixed for close quorter
Sawbacks gleam red perspiration
Who among us would dare
Dare to walk the killing fields
The heather that drank the blood of our fathers
And bled from trenches
Slashed
By what authority are we granted peace
Over dead bodies of the more worthy
More worthy than we
Like the moth
We serve the light blindly
Ever colliding with another servant
Capitulation
Resignation
The rot seeps everywhere
Unstemmed tide of ruin
Entropy gathers and engulfs instead
Few know the true lined face of mars
But the lessons of the learned
Drawn from killing and burning fields
Offer a tourniquet to staunch the flow
But we'd rather stand and bleat
Flashes of the storm our only light
Perhaps it's time to burn again
