A Burden Of Flowers

Do we reject — do we embrace — do we detest
The deceitful nature of battleless victories?
In this blank age of protest
Of form enfolding strength
Are we guards, henchmen, defenders?
Defeat, defeat, defeat
A time for precision and beauty
A time for seperateness
From blackness to nothingness
From a waste of words to nothing less than?
Defeat, defeat, defeat
The ethos of action
The ethos of pain
Juxtaposed displeasures
The ethos of action
The ethos of pain
This futile life
And its treasures
Nous ne sommes plus capables de sacrifices