The Convicts and the kingdom
have finally fallen
and the jailbirds will cry
through the iron bars they'll whimper
and concrete towers they built on our graves
are their prisons of solitude
tell the sky she can cry tears of joy
and the rivers to carry them pure
tell the deer that they may roam
without a rifle sighted at their belly
this might not be long or as painful for them
but thank the guardians for giving earth
one last breath of fresh air before
they destroy the world  forever