Grab thy tears and march into oblivion
Grip thy frowns and salute Impurity
For blood is no such art – crimson abyss
Cry her sympathy and bear resolutions
Converge thy impatience into submission
For bullets are no such brushes – metal walls
Drown thy happiness into utter silence
Damp thy emotions and wipe expression
For guns are no such artists – inferior roar
Within the crimson abyss of metal walls
Damp with thy blood of kin and friend
Splattered with thy guts of foe and animal
Comes the inferior roar of peace and certitude
They must be dreaming – such certitude?
I am must be dreaming – peace to be found?