It seems like only yesterday
we danced on clouds of wind
The music pounding out a spell
The message was so paper thin

But just as devils masquerade
As ministers of light
They crashed the party, screaming
Under cover of the night

Dancing in the fire
Never thought the song would end
But then the rhythm changed
To syncopation raining pain

Dayglow ravers running
While the DJ kept the beat
The image vexed upon my mind
The slaughter was complete

Back home, our family’s gathered
There’s knocking at the door
In rapid-fire succession
The devil’s wrath is poured

The day had surely ended
In the dark before the dawn
As gods of misdirection
Scatter moonbeams on the lawn

Holding onto grudges
Counting beads for every grave
Eventually, the price is paid
For all those false foundations laid

As death is a commodity
We barter for our souls
Accumulating misery
For a piece of land, we stole

The price is non-negotiable
A pound of flesh or three
Until we do it all again
Rewrite our history

They labeled him a savior
Saying we were the disease
While sipping on our wine
And nibbling on our cheese

Now Mom and Dad are staring
At their children on the floor
Forced to watch them suffer
For the freedoms we adore

First, they took her eyeball
His fingers and an ear
Placed them on a silver plate
To justify their precious faith

Shooting father in the head
Singing heartfelt prayers
Let the dead bury their dead
This is the day of our despair

Now the dance has ended
All the sheep are clearly blind
Following their masters
Cross a desert in the mind

No music there is playing
Blood is puddling on the ground
Sinking into crimson sand
Into a vacancy of sound

Retribution’s soul solution
Random sequence of events
Nothing is the sum of winning
Terror’s never happenstance

Covered in clandestine mischief
Murder filmed in grave details
Raving at the gates of heaven
Facts unfurl to no avail

A candle stick holds lightning
All is mayhem for the news
Shining as a sacred beacon
While we’re judged by how we choose

Some day you will read about this
In a library of lies
Where the winners write the details
Of a faith, they’ve compromised

The conclusion of the matter
Is a history of violence
Where the god of their creation
Answers back with only silence

TM DiSarro

ART: Dionisio Heiderscheid