He leaves a trail of human woes,
Slaved by his eyes and ears.
Who leaves a smoke of choking souls,
No heart he wooed, but wooed his metal.
He is a terrorist, brandishing his gun.
O, Earth! How are you able to carry
The burden on your frame,
Of sons who slay your bosom
and let sinews of crimson flow.
As you are heaped in wishless tears,
Tears of despaired dreams and fears.
As shepherds on a far hill laze,
As the silvered moon guides his sheep,
Retracing their path through the valleys deep.
And a youth shall gaze into the dewy eyes,
Of his sweet beloved in a daze.
That path he trod, his mired feet
Shod in his copious greed, his deed
In the chronicles he engraved his name,
His shame, remains unblowned
In the sheaves of history.
Shallow greatness echoing heavy
Of his toil to unclasp his wrath.
At long last under the sod he lies,
Kneaded in your rich slough.
His flesh, nibbled away,
That hath played its part;
The needful task.
Unlike when he a curse
And a breath in his body did stay.