Nagasaki failed and the lotus blossom wilts.
But he will never see it that way.
A man of fire took his time to take the shot.
And when he dropped the bomb,
the demons choir took a break from deceitful melodies.  
Though they were never really heard
they still beat barrels of rice wine,
which they've converted to percussion ensembles.
The music of our souls flowing and swaying,
while our disembodied toes tap to the melody.
Never again, Nagasaki.
Never again.
Such travesty veiled by inhuman reason.
And I follow it to the end.