Yell at the sun's eyes
Yell at the moon's eyes
As your agony sprinkled voice
Climb the distance you feet
Might not reach
Remember!
No neck is wreathe with gold
Neither kings of the old
Who'd fought dreams to conquest
As all hen respects it blood
Yet slaughtered to Gods

Men who swam through history
Were pain tamed
At the gentle moment of shame
Such, Son's, are a lie
Absalom to his father
Then a messiah
Wept in fulfilling discomfort amongst thieves