Driving the pack,
from the rear,
with a trumpet, with an axe...
with a threat.
Driving to the precipice,
windswept and wet.
We're starving, neglected.
Eternally carving my cause on a landscape that's blighted and scorched.
I've lighted a torch for the truth.
We don't listen, we shoot, from the blindside.
It's a landslide, but in hindsight,
I thought it was easier.
But it's all much too late to turn back,
I'd lose face.
And you turn on me, faithlessly put me away
in a place where my orders are echoes...
my torturous ghosts.
In a space with no windows, and I'm counting my toes.
All this time to reflect
on my crimes on humanity.
I'm screaming profanities,
just give me a chance,
I'll start over again.
I confess.
I confess.
Yes, I'd do it again.