Brothers, Should It Always Come To This

Brothers, Should we always return to the old tune Of time and again tuning to counterpoint Of the past pain; a throbbing return Right at the very tipping point Of the pinnacle to touch promised power? Brothers, how long should we bear Blood-spattered battles of their Own making and their own imagination, Their own thoughts, and their own creation? How long should we let the pagans Pluck off feathers from our wings –to which stupid plundering sings – Partying the persistence of the polluted plan As the vampires again and again Have the plan prepared and bared As did our yesteryear’s gods, Leaving us without defense, and in tense? Let us pound the drums and tom-toms of war And let us let the reverberating sound soar High, high, high up there in the air As yesteryear’s war songs we prepare For our juggled and gagged flag to fly Again against their blood-red raided sky. Brothers, Then let us swallow a little while Their bitter bile as we prepare them to pace their last mile