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Post by Tate Icasa on Feb 8, 2008 23:55:00 GMT -5
Sun Will Rise We first mistake their silence for a weapon not our own, And their blood is stained upon our hands, yet not their lifeless bone. Their souls are carried blindly down the river by the dove, Her purest thoughts of peace, and of drifting far above, Our simple little battles, never caring if we've won or lost And in our graveyards sitting, through the wind and rain and frost. The vulture feeds upon the dead, and raids our unguarded tomb, Then what he leaves crumble to dust, left never to resume, What course of action previous, to lie beneath the sun, And rot away, disintegrate, before the year is done. The same across the ravaged Earth, and many times to come, This price we'll pay a million times, and never find the sum, Of all the live we've taken, neither to repay the debt. Which each new day is tripled, and the goal be never met. Should this fate be written in the stars, to which we must submit? And follow this cycle down the road, this killing to permit? It must stop now, and peace be made, or else we lose the way, The sun will rise tomorrow, once it sets again today.
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