A thousand bloody hand prints stain the walls of 

Liberty. 

A stranger hides in dreams denied, awaiting his 

Release. 

I've seen this picture before. 

I never thought that we would end up here, 

When fascism comes as an angel of light 

Its license parading as Tyranny drives forth its son. 



The Son of Mourning dominating fears, afflicting fallen 

Men. 

His body highly organized; it's coming into prominence 

To bear its ominous warnings. 

It's in your blood to comprehend it's origin, 

For those who refuse to remember the past are 

Condemned to repeat it, 

The first and the last, Dust to Dust ... 



History if His Story 

And life is laughing at its peril. 



Building towers that come fourth in men> Shifting powers consuming us within, 

The will puzzle the apostles till the end. 



Enter into the silence, into the dying life of America, 

The brave, the slave, the grave. 



The shattered pigs dying as primitive savages, 

Eating their flesh, they will lie rotting in dirt, 

While a stranger among you has challenged the course 

Of human existence and alien forces. 

The birth of the black prince is setting the stage 

In its thriving dissension, exalting his rank, 

And the innocent man will fall victim to hands in the 

Trial of Truth 

And its twisted reversal. 

The union of factions bleeds shock to the system, 

For civilization had ended today, 

The transitional nature of acts and society climb in its 

Place 

While its face re-creates until your god is dead. 

Enlighten me with your pale statues, face of inhibition, 

And until your reign has ended, frighten me with your 

Stale - taste - tongue of inquisition. 



In your eyes I will come forth in men with no justice, 

No order to defend, and the stone will be cast again ... 



Enter into the fire, into the bloody gates of America, 

The great, the fate, the late.