Hail hail
To the people's voice.
How long in death you'll lay
Will tell the world
Of mistakes we've made
Of how our moral beginnings frayed.

Whisper about
Our vaporous hope.
Don't let them smell your fear.
We'll wait until
The fire breaks
And forget this reprobate year.

And when the lions
Return as sheep,
Their den echoing a remnant rage,
We'll stand before
This broken ground.
There will be hate to assuage.