Grain by grain the sand
Fell through the sieve
You slipped through my hands
Your belief faltered
The pile stacked against you
No perceivable escape
This land becomes your tomb
Your body upon the alter
Ready to make the sacrifice
Nothing is gained if absent
Blood is mankind's truest vice,
But ink is the authors
Mar 11, 2017
Mar 11, 2017 at 9:39 PM UTC
Grain by grain the sand
Fell through the sieve
You slipped through my hands
Your belief faltered
The pile stacked against you
No perceivable escape
This land becomes your tomb
Your body upon the alter
Ready to make the sacrifice
Nothing is gained if absent
Blood is mankind's truest vice,
But ink is the authors
