IXXI - Southern Tribes


Past present post-modernism
A flock that need not dream of condemnation
The bizarre would-be richest landmass
Once promising but thrown into corruption, famine and religion

Exploited and raped of all innocence
Deprived of all hope
Seeking wonders in this time of genocide

Gathering all southern tribes
Into forged metastasis
Hate and determination
Guiding the hands of men
In all grandeur
Conscience was the answer
Now we are truly fallen

Meddling with the precepts of the white common wealth
Like a once so drunk steam-power Europe
Modernity is a dark age in this realm
Handguns handed out to cavemen

Scientific Eden
In spite of everything
Again their time may well follow upon
The end of all world.

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