---

Cries macerating

Muscling each other

Testing the fate when the key to survival

Is persistence

Break the bread to feed the sons

Should they choose to come home

Bend the knees and touch the ground

Should you see greatness unfold

Silence is the sister of honour

Yet she dwells alone

Honour is a frail old thing

And its apostles gone

We age, we forget

The last ones to remember

Keep one eye on the dead

When all is quiet, when all is spent

We're crying to the hanged

We're pulling on their legs

In ruin, our best

In hierarchy of failure

Oppressors and oppressed

After, at the gates

All the drunken fools

Can shake each others hands