TIL THE BLOOD RUNS DRY
EARTH WET IN SHADES OF RED
SHADES OF BLACK
VOICES
NOW HEARD
ONLY IN FAINT WHISPER
MUFFLED BY PAIN
BY SUFFERING
ONES EYES
AND EARS
FAR
TOO ACCUSTOMED
TO SUCH
WE TURN
LOOKING FAR BEYOND
TIL THE BLOOD RUNS DRY
EARTH BLACKENED BY DEATH
DEALT BY
MANKIND
MEN,WOMEN AND CHILDREN
TOSSED
ASIDE
PILED HIGH
AS ONE MIGHT
STACK WOOD
THEIR VOICES
NOW SILENT
TIL THE BLOOD RUNS DRY
j SWEPTSON
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