Rites Of Rumination

Rites of rumination, echoes of prayers spoken in feverish contrition
Means of self-destruction, poison and filth will be the Word, scratching the scabs of adoration
What difference does it make if the bullet is the guide?
Let the shepherd slaughter our ways
What difference will it make if all reason fails our time, as long as faith and truth prevails?
Let them wear their pride as a crown.

Rock to clay, the titan fails, the giant falls
Asleep, ashamed, blind to all but to his past.

Build your halls, impress your enemies, repress the meek
Raise a monument of shame, raise a monument of grandeur
Build another wall, make it high, lock yourselves out
Our time is passed, yours will be too.

Rock to clay, the jotun dies, the golem stumbles
Afraid, numb, deaf to all but to his sins.

Acts of condemnation, a thousand years’ worth of lies
Erase, replace for another thousand years
Deeds of desperation, when history repeats itself
All our books reduced to one word.

Pray, another dawn is coming, invite another god to rule in the temple
Prey, another dusk nears, another pointless victory, until time makes it even.

What difference does it make if the weapon is the lie?
If your blades speak a truth of their own?
What difference does it make if humanity is a vision of the past?
What difference does it make?

Rock to clay, the titan fails, the giant falls
Asleep, ashamed, blind to all but to his past
Ash to flames, the phoenix rises
Turn of the tide, again, again.