the song will tell the count of bones sleeping
what call to arms doth break the peace again
there is no cause but willful thought holding
blade to human throat but for blind swollen
greed calls to all and is heard by many
loudly no place other than ego bliss
i speak amid the stars in my own way
not vaulted source of truth but comely kiss
that whispers out to total mind you me
crawling spec on battlefield woeful sees
world of blood and yearns soft to speak of free