Dressed in Black

The sun rises dressed in black clouds cry as Siern's call whithering in pain from burning flesh, burning ashes leaving a bloody wound upon the Earth Where stones stand silent in front of mounds covered in grass washed in red from the veins of those who have died in senseless wars covering thousands of years The tears of the mourning try to wash away the blood of the buried Their souls are crumbling in failure As they bow to the curse of their misery They paint their world from green to red in memory from the carnage of generations where emotional weakness masquerades as power doomed to failure, over and over Filling the sea, filling the soil With broken tender branches sacrificed as an offering on the battlefields of destruction by the evils of so few Trying to enrich their corrupt souls that drips with the blood of millions, staining the Earth Is this the pinnacle of life? To roam the landscape as destroyers of worlds Where burning flesh becomes a fragrance to breathe in filling the lungs of lunacy While marching in parades on the torn streets of self-gratification where the blind stand to applaud Then rummage through shattered worlds filled with the dead and dying, like rats scurrying across broken stones of false promises Where liars hide in the shadows of discontent The sun rises dressed in black clouds cry as Siern's call