Proud we stand, loftily in our ivory towers
Proud we stand, bawling our boasts and feats
Proud we stand, on the cold concrete we built
In shame, I hung my head, fathoming our “powers”
In grief, my quill broke his heart descrying our plight.
Humanity bleeds as his ink flows in protean woe

Love has lost its world, We estranged her away
And the world lost its Love, We chased disarray
All the colours in this world have run eerily cold
Our eyes fixated on a global monochrome gold
To bundles of printed paper, our soul… we sold.
Humanity bleeds as his ink flows in protean woe

Our vermilion blood has thinned, thinner than wine
Onto our gashes, we had to dowse the thickest brine
Blinded by rage, we parried the balsam to our souls
Yet in an unhesitant grace, traces remain in our bowls
Yet... Our calamitous claws yearn to rinse it off us
Humanity bleeds as his ink flows in protean woe

For an endless pursuit, in an unquenchable thirst,
We ****** our heels onto them who cleansed them
The hands which held us taut. we mangled them.
All for an empty crusade seeking the same black
We went rabid, scouring for an immortal fountain
The answer was a drop of Love, now unobtainium.  

Yet I anticipate in the warmth of a spring someday
A few dewdrops and a little fountain emerging…
Fountain so bountiful in Love, her arrival in glory.
That day, my quill shall be healed and his ink resting