He took what was
Most precious to her.
Pried it out
Of her cold, dead hands.

It was more
Than just a life taken.
It was the life before her,
And the life after.

Cast away, was her name
And shamed, her children were.
Drunk on pride
The man danced where her body lay.

Danced by the fire
And by the blood.
Built his cities
Upon death and decay.

It was more
Than just a life taken.
It was her identity
And eventually his as well.

It will be the end of the man
One day,
When he finally sees the truth
When he can finally feel the pain.

When his children have forgotten
Who they are,
Because his nation was built
Upon another.

And the world hates us now,
But they will cry for us then.
The day we fall
And start all over again.