Spiders are crawling
on every flower
and they have feet
caked in gun powder
They invade the blooms
of roses in the winter
The world is shadowed in doom
and my fingers bleed with splinters
from the homes of freedom
crashing down to rot
but this is the hope of a people
that grow like moss
on fallen trees
they stand like those flowers
and march like bees
They are the bloom of freedom
in the dark ages of evil